


Every Breath You Take (I Watch You Slip Away)

by OfSpideRs_aNdRiddLes



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: Jedi: Fallen Order (Video Game), Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: (albeit sooner than canon), Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Anakin Skywalker Needs a Hug, Anakin Skywalker is Bad At Emotions, Anakin Skywalker is a Little Shit, Anal Sex, Angst, BAMF Ahsoka Tano, Banthas (Star Wars), Canonical Character Death, Clone Wars, Consent is Sexy, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut, Exegol, Explicit Sexual Content, Frottage, Grieving, Guilt, Harassment, Human Disaster Anakin Skywalker, Hurt, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, I Tried, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I wrote this instead of studying, Intimacy, M/M, Manipulative Sheev Palpatine, Minor Character Death, No Beta read we die like men, Not Canon Compliant, Obi-Wan Kenobi Needs a Hug, Obi-Wan Kenobi is a Mess, Padawan Anakin Skywalker, Protective Obi-Wan Kenobi, Rako Hardeen - Freeform, SMUT in chapter 20, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Smut in chapter 21, Suspense, Tender Sex, Time Skips, Undercover as a Couple, Unresolved Sexual Tension, creative liberties were taken, obi-wan is bad at feelings, ok maybe the smut is in chapter 19, plo koon is the root of my happiness, research was done, reunites with canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:55:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 95,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23900074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OfSpideRs_aNdRiddLes/pseuds/OfSpideRs_aNdRiddLes
Summary: What if the plot to turn the Chosen One to the dark side of the force had come into play sooner?following the emotional mess that is anakin skywalker, and exploring the dynamic between him an obi-wan as the higher plans of the dark lords test them at every turn.title from "I Won't Give In" from Asking Alexandria.rating will go up.new chapters weekly (for the most part)
Relationships: (background), Anakin Skywalker & Ahsoka Tano, Anakin Skywalker & Mace Windu, Anakin Skywalker/Original Male Character(s), CT-7567 | Rex & Anakin Skywalker, Kit Fisto/Plo Koon, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker, Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker (one-sided), Padmé Amidala/Satine Kryze, Qui-Gon Jinn & Anakin Skywalker, Qui-Gon Jinn & Obi-Wan Kenobi, Sheev Palpatine & Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 208
Kudos: 325





	1. Face all the pain, and take it on

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dbakeiro](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dbakeiro/gifts), [Nightshade_sydneylover150](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nightshade_sydneylover150/gifts), [Dirtkid123](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dirtkid123/gifts).



> I HAVE MODIFIED THINGS TO FIT THIS NARRATIVE:  
> Notably:  
> Ages: Anakin Skywalker was still taken in at age 9. Padmé is 16. Shmi Skywalker was 15 when she gave birth to him, making her 24 when the story begins. Qui-Gon Jinn is 40, his padawan Obi-wan Kenobi is 15. This comes into play later. Nobody knows how fucking old Yoda is. 
> 
> Kicks off near the midpoint of The Phantom Menace. Will conclude around the events of The Revenge of the Sith, but that is much later.
> 
> Song of the chapter: The Only Hope For Me - My Chemical Romance

They had started almost immediately.

When the monitor returned the results, systems away on a sandy wasteland in the Outer Rim, displaying the midi-chlorian count, off of the charts, it began.

He excused himself from the room. 

Assuring that he was alone, he swiftly stilled the force around him, pulling his own signature closer to himself, making his being, had any force sensitive been within a klick of him, absolutely undetectable. 

It was merely a blink later that the formidable presence of his master manifested behind him, leering over him. He turned to face the Muun, feigning a slight flinch. 

_ “What have you found?” _

The words almost hissed themselves from the projection’s lips, turning the air around him into a dry cold.

The human man straightened his shoulders, this time genuine confidence seeping from his skin into the force bond.

“I have found The One.”

_ “Have you, now?” _ A hungry interest clung to his words, like vinegar to silk.

“It has been located on Tatooine. The being you manifested in the slave-woman’s womb. The Jedi assigned to the Naboo situation found themselves sidetracked, and have stumbled across it, almost coincidentally.”

_ “Good… good. When they inevitably bring the Queen to the Senate, I require a sample be sent immediately. The process shall begin.” _

“I will see it done, my Master.” The man bowed.

_ “You will not fail me. I am on the verge of greatness, and we shall achieve our eternal reign.” _

The man bowed once more, and the cold left the air as the Muun was no longer projecting himself to his apprentice from systems away, on a planet lost within a galaxy far, far away.

He had work to do.

* * *

“Are you sure about this, Master?”

The man on the other side of the comm link sighed, a slight laugh.

“Obi-wan, is that jealousy? It certainly isn't the way of the Jedi--”

“Oh, here we go. You have found another pathetic life form, I sense?”

“I am certain. He is the Chosen One.”

“Should I alert the Council?”

There was a pause.

“I can do it, thank you my Padawan.”

The line went dead.

Obi-wan leaned back in the ship. His master had a tendency to pick up strays, and he was half convinced it was the only reason that he was Qui-Gon Jinn’s padawan. He wasn’t the man’s first choice. The other one, the  _ perfect _ one, he thought bitterly, was too young to begin his training as a Padawan, and Obi-wan nearly too old. 

So it was pity that brought him under his master’s wing, but he was not ungrateful. 

He was relieved, however, when his master chose to bring with him his newest addition to the growing number of Pathetic Lifeforms he accumulated as he traveled across the galaxy.

The Gungan was not only irritating, but incredibly foolish. He could meditate easier knowing that the creature was not aboard the ship with him, so he wouldn’t be constantly preparing to leap to the aid should he inevitably break something else. 

His master’s absence did little to quell his apprehensions. He had been feeling off for the duration of his mission to Naboo, and while the cold feeling seemed to ease as he was separate from Qui-Gon on Tatooine, his agitation only grew. 

* * *

The podrace was over swiftly, although it seemed to also be agonisingly long. 

Anakin was lifted out of his pod, covered in soot and grime from the race, the world a whirlwind around him as he struggled to grasp that he won, that  _ he was free _ . He vaguely registered being lifted onto the shoulders of the Jedi. 

He looked over to his mother, and felt a pang of grief in his chest. 

She wasn’t free. He was, but he didn’t want to be apart from her. It wasn’t fair. 

He ran over to his mother when the celebration died down enough for him to slip away. Watto got his money, the Jedi got his parts. Anakin got his freedom, but where did that leave her?

“Mom!” he shouted, throwing his arms around her waist, his head pressing into her side.

“Anakin! I’m so very proud of you,” Shmi pressed a kiss to the top of his head before kneeling down in front of him, hands on the sides of his face. “You have done a great thing, and I am sure it is one of many great things to come.”

Hot pricks of oncoming tears drove the boy to press his face into her hand more, looking down from her.

“Why can’t you come with us, mom?”

“Anakin,” she sighed, sorrowful, “the deal was for you, and you have your whole life ahead of you! I’m old, I have the benefit of knowing that you are free. I don’t care what happens to me.”

“But mom, you aren’t old, please,” the boy begged, “please try to come with us. They have a ship! They can fly us out of here, we won’t need to come back! Watto won’t be able to get you! We can be free together.”

The old Jedi rested his hand on Shmi’s shoulder.

“Young one, your mother is right. It was difficult to secure your own freedom, she will be fine--”

“You don’t know that!” Anakin snapped, face red with tears. “You don’t know what it’s like for slaves on their own here! Watto will sell her to one of the Hutts. He allowed us to stay together because I can build things, he won’t need her! She’ll be all alone surrounded by monsters, you can’t…” 

The Gungan looked on with sympathy, the handmaiden’s face fell, and she avoided eye contact. Shmi couldn’t have been ten years older than her. She despised this planet with its mob politics. 

She spoke up.

“Shmi,” she started, voice quieter. The woman looked up to the girl.

“I’m sure I can communicate with the Queen and see to it that you will be able to have a spot somewhere in the help. We do need another handmaiden, the pay’s not great right now, but it’s much better than here…” 

Shmi looked to her in shock.

“You’d do that for him?” her voice wavered with emotion.

“I’m doing it for you. This planet is cruel, what you would be going through wouldn’t be right.”

Shmi’s face was streaked with silent tears, looking from the girl to Anakin, and lastly to the Jedi, looking for permission to accept the offer she had been extended.

Qui-Gon rubbed his beard in thought. He nodded minutely.

“We will need to be swift. Get your things, we leave at once.”

Padmé offered Shmi her arm as the woman was concealed by the Jedi’s cloak. She had limited vision and was told to walk with a slight hunch to throw off the suspicion that she was to be leaving with them. Anakin jogged alongside Master Qui-Gon as he led the group out of Mos Eisley and into the open desert towards the Cruiser. 

After a few minutes, he stopped, motioning for the others to do so as well. 

“What is it?” the handmaiden asked nervously.

“Something is following us.” he said gravely. 

Anakin looked fearfully at his mother, who was now walking normally without the hood on her face. She returned his look, and moved closer to him protectively.

From over the dunes, a small black speck could be seen on the horizon, moving quickly. Qui-Gon motioned to Shmi to come to him, and looked to Padmé.

“Lead the others to the ship,” 

“But --”

“That is an order.” He said sternly, not letting her speak.

“Do you know what that could be?” He asked, looking to Shmi. She shook her head slowly, before stilling.

“It could be one of Watto’s Catchers, he sends them out periodically…” she died off, fear circling her neck like a noose.

“You should run,” she looked to the Jedi, Anakin just visible over his shoulder, running after Padmé while facing his mother.

“I can protect you, go on ahead.” He said softly, eyes glued to the approaching black figure.

The sounds of a speeder bike echoed towards them, the high pitched buzz hauntingly dominating the surrounding silence. The figure got ever closer.

“Mom?” Anakin called from far off. The ship was visible, a small glint against the harsh colours of the sand and sky.

Shmi turned to see her son, her heart in her throat.

She knew that if she were to run to him, the Catcher wouldn’t hesitate to bring back both of them. There was no greater insult to a slave owner than sneaking off with two when one had been freed. She needed to save him, to let him have the life she knew he was destined to have ever since she first felt him kicking in her fifteen year old womb. He needed to get away, and she could make sure that happened.

She looked to the Jedi.

“Take care of him.”

The man nodded, sensing her resolve, but remained by her side nonetheless.

He drew his lightsabre. The figure was almost upon them when he sensed the dark surrounding it. Not the usual dark of a murderer. This was something older, crueller.

He glanced to Shmi, who was standing slightly behind him, apprehensive, but calm.

“Run!” he shouted at her, she shook her head.

“I can handle my--”

“This is no Catcher, run Shmi!” 

She stilled, eyes breaking away from his to stare at the speeder, barely half a klick away. Qui-Gon reached for her when an invisible rope pulled her away from him at lightning speed. 

“No!” he roared, using the force to jump towards the assailant.

It was too late. 

Shmi collided with the front of the speeder at such a speed that the sickening organic  _ crunch _ of her thoracic cage was deafening over the whine of the machine. Anakin could be heard screaming in vain for his mother over the distance from the Cruiser to where her mangled body lay in the sand, face up.

The Jedi landed just in front of the speeder when he used the force to throw it off course, sending its rider soaring overhead before falling into the sand some metres away. As the Jedi sprinted away towards the ship, he saw Anakin had run off of the landing ramp towards him, backpack still on, distress almost palpable through the force. 

Time seemed to still as Qui-Gon overtook the boy, who was now running back to the ship as fast as his short legs permitted. The speeder started up again, and the force-user mounted it, kicking off with his legs, sending the sand flying in an arch behind him.

“ANAKIN! Drop!” The Jedi shouted to the short boy toddling after him, his weight off balance with the large sack he had brought with him.

The blond child complied, legs pushing off of the dune beneath him, falling flat to his stomach, sand flying into his eyes. His ears were ringing with the sound of his mother’s body impacting with the speeder. As he shut his eyes to prevent sand from getting into them, he saw her flying backwards, playing in a loop.

The screeching rumble of the speeder bike zipped over his head, blowing more sand into his face. 

His main concern, besides the hooded assailant zipping after the man who had secured his freedom, was the sand scratching the half-completed circuitry in his bag, knowing that it would disrupt the fine wires he had soldered on the week before. The small project he had been working on for his mother all he had left of her now. 

His mind was a flurry of sensory input as he was dragged on to the sleek Nabooian ship by a young man in brown robes, the  _ clash _ of the lightsabres behind him escalating his heartbeat with every strike, the cold interior of the ship making his body tired while his mind scrambled for a sense of normality he could cling to. Instead, he found someone’s cloak, and without registering what he was doing, the fabric was bunched into his small hands, his eyes fixed on the swirling figures just outside of the entrance to the cruiser. Red against green, the flurry of black and brown robes, the spinning of them both. 

He felt sick.

_ Shmi flying, her spine hitting the bike. The crunch, her falling.  _

He swallowed back his nausea, but it did little.

Especially when the Cruiser took off slowly, and the sand from the only planet he remembered flying into the belly of the ship, the beige contrasting the cold durasteel interior. 

Qui-Gon landed on the extended ramp with a less-than-professional gracelessness, Anakin’s eyes were glued behind him, at the speck in the sand he knew to be his mother. She was alone, surrounded by the desert, and the retreating figure in black.

He knew the man was alright, he felt it, but he also felt how rattled the man clearly was. And he felt the cool concern from the person he clung to, barely distinguishable from his own mess of emotions. There was a faint tint of annoyance, although he did not know what it was towards. Finally looking up, he met narrowed blue eyes, peering at him with curiosity. 

“Hello there,” came the taller man.

“Hello Mr Jedi sir,” Anakin spoke quietly, voice breaking with unshed tears. He was slightly in awe, but his grief overtook it. Not because he hadn’t been impressed when he met Qui-Gon, but because of the man being closer to his age, it made him more sure that he  _ would _ become a Jedi.

Obi-wan laughed at the formalities used, albeit incorrectly, by the young boy, but his brow knit in concern with the waves of anguish flooding from his force signature. He glanced over to where his master was sat, catching his breath from his encounter with the Sith.

Qui-Gon rolled to his knees, taking deep breaths. He looked to Anakin, who was partially hidden in Obi-wan’s robes, knuckles white with the grip he held in the fabric, eyes vacantly looking to the floor somewhere near Qui-Gon’s knees. His face was incredibly pale, eyes glassy. Obi-wan looked to his master for an explanation, knowing only faintly what had occurred before he went running out of the Cruiser, dragging the boy onto the ship, checking that the girl and the Gungan were inside. The girl was huddled close to the Queen, in their separate makeshift throne room, tears down her face. The other three handmaidens were wrapped around her, the Queen held her hand, Padmé’s face resting on her knees. Even the Gungan had the decency to be silent.

The silence was suffocating once they got into the vacuum of space, the new hyperdrive humming quietly, the droids gliding across the floor, all sounding too loud. Obi-wan found himself holding his breath at times because he felt that should he breathe louder, he would be disturbing the moment. His master was up in the cockpit with the Nabooian guards and pilots, so the boy was left by himself, where he had curled up in a corner, clinging to his bag and shivering, eyes vacant.

Obi-wan crossed over to him and knelt down in front of him, looking at him with a silent request for permission to sit with him. Anakin shrugged minutely, so Obi-wan shifted so that he was sat to his left, Anakin’s right shoulder being crammed into a corner. 

They sat in silence for a minute or so, Obi-wan sending calming signals through the force towards the boy, whose signature was brighter than any other he had encountered. It was only after the silence grew slightly uncomfortable that Anakin spoke.

“What was it that killed my mother?”

Obi-wan paused to consider the question, which to him, was rather open ended.

“The direct cause, the action itself, or the being?” he responded calmly.

Anakin shrugged, so Obi-wan used that as a cue to explain as he saw fit.

“The being was a Sith Lord,” Anakin looked at him, questioning.

“A Sith is like a Jedi in that they are able to communicate with the force and wield a lightsabre. Whereas the Sith are identifiable by their red blades, Jedi have a variety of colours, most commonly blues and greens.”

The child looked up to Obi-wan slightly, intrigued, and thankful for the distraction.

“Is it just the colour that makes someone a Sith?” he asked softly, mouth partially hidden in the crook of his arm, causing his words to be muffled.

“No, Anakin. The blade colour doesn’t determine the purpose of the force-wielder. The red comes from the crystal that powers the lightsabre being broken, this is usually after the force user loses sight of the Light, and relies on raw emotions to find strength, rather than in the calm that the Jedi are taught to use.”

Anakin thought about this for a moment, facing back to the floor in front of his drawn-up knees.

“So, emotions make someone a Sith? Are emotions bad?”

Obi-wan didn’t yet know how to answer that.

“Yes…” he started, before the panicked look on the boy’s face made him rethink his word choice, “and no. Mostly no, I guess. Emotions are not inherently good or bad, as are people. It’s how they are used, how they are presented that makes them good or bad. Emotions are natural, much like how you feel now. I can only imagine how that would impact someone as young as you are, I never knew my parents, I was taken in to the Order when I was around three.” 

Anakin looked at him over his shoulder, eyebrow slightly lifted.

“How old are you now?” He asked, incredulously. Obi-wan laughed quietly.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” 

“Please, Mr Jedi?”

“Obi-wan, Anakin. My name is Obi-wan Kenobi.”

“I’m Anakin, Anakin Skywalker.” the younger stated, slightly poking fun at Obi-wan’s Coruscanti accent with his own lilted words.

“It is nice to meet you, Anakin, Anakin Skywalker.” Obi-wan said wisely.

“It’s Anakin,”

“I know. I was merely teasing.”

A beat.

“Do you feel better, Anakin?”

“I guess,” he said, shrugging and looking away from him again. “I would still like to know how old you are.”

Obi-wan huffed a laugh. “Guess.”

“You look really old.”

Obi-wan drew back from him in slight offense. “Really? Is that how you speak to a Jedi?”

“Don’t take it personally, Obi-wan. Master Qui-Gon looks ancient.”

Obi-wan genuinely laughed at that, knowing that the age gap between him and his master was a bit on the longer side of most Padawans.

“Well, he is forty years old.”

“Forty!?”

“What? It isn’t uncommon for those around us to be older than twenty.”

Anakin shifted.

“It is where I’m from. Mom was fifteen when she had me,” he almost whispered.

Obi-wan paused, feeling quiet. That would explain the boy’s anguish, not only because of how he missed his mother, but because of those around him being older than she got to be. He could sense that to Anakin, it was unfair for one to be robbed of life when others had seen so many years.

“I’m fifteen,” Obi-wan replied. 

“Really?” Anakin whipped his head around so that he was genuinely facing Obi-wan, shoulder against the durasteel wall, knees slightly relaxed from their prior relentless grip to his chest. 

“Don’t you go spreading that information, now. It would be shameful for one to tell the ages of others.”

“But you told me Master Qui-Gon’s age--”

Obi-wan held a finger to his lips, smirking behind the gesture.

“Our secret.”

Anakin smiled at that, still shivering from the cold of the ship, but feeling less empty than he had before. He watched as Obi-wan stood up, and shifted so he could still watch as he straightened his robes, his back now against the wall once more. 

As the exhaustion of the day caught up to him, his eyelids began to pull downwards of their own volition. He stifled a yawn, and shrunk into himself some more.

Just as he was drifting off, he felt something warm and familiar drape across his knees and be tucked behind his shoulders. He pried his eyes open, and blearily made out the retreating form of Obi-wan, clad in his beige robes, his brown cloak across Anakin’s form. 

Pulled back to sleep once more, he was faintly aware of the smell of the fabric itself, unlike anything from Tatooine. Something else he couldn’t name, but found comforting, was laced into the fabric. 

He pulled the cloak tighter around him, utterly exhausted, inside and out.


	2. We all get lost sometimes trying to find what we're looking for

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> we follow in the aftermath of Shmi's death, and see how Anakin is responded to by the Council. This follows the rest of Phantom Menace to a point, and we see the change in character dynamics.
> 
> Song of the Chapter: fadein/fadeout - Nothing More

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> because i was so lovingly provided sustenance last chapter, here's the second instalment, early. :)

The arrival at Coruscant went smoothly. 

Anakin had stayed close to Obi-wan’s side, slightly reluctant to be near Qui-Gon, as he was the last one his mother talked to, but he knew the older man was not responsible. He just felt odd about him.

He watched as the Queen and her four handmaidens went over to an old man who bowed to them, before his eyes loosely raked over Anakin for the briefest of moments. Anakin shivered.

He pulled closer to Obi-wan, tugging slightly at the taller’s sleeve.

Obi-wan looked down, amused.

“What is it, Anakin?”

“Who is the man, Obi-wan?” the Padawan followed the gesture to the Nabooian Senator, standing next to the Chancellor Valorum.

“That is Senator Sheev Palpatine. He is from Naboo, and represents the system within the Senate.”

“Is he a bad person?”

Obi-wan frowned.

“What makes you say that?” He dropped his voice to a whisper, trusting the younger’s perception more than his own biased one.

“He looked at me, and it made me uncomfortable.”

“Because he is a stranger?” Obi-wan inquired.

“No, something else. I’m alright around strangers, but… I don’t know. Never mind.”

Obi-wan said nothing to him, but filed away the exchange to meditate on later, or to pester his Master about when others were not around. 

Obi-wan looped his pinky finger within Anakin’s small grasp on the end of his cloak, the younger squeezed it.

_Trust your instincts._

Anakin snapped his head at Obi-wan, who merely raised an eyebrow. 

“How did you--”

_Shh. This is not a verbal conversation._

Anakin’s jaw dropped, eyes wide in amazement.

_Do you want to know how to respond?_

Anakin nodded.

_Okay, think about something, and then push it to me._

_Lem kt hs?_

_Think clearly, then try again, you’ve almost got it._

_Like … this?_

A sense of accomplishment settled between them. _Brilliantly done, Anakin._

Anakin beamed up at Obi-wan, who smiled down at him, quiet pride in his eyes.

_Can … every else hear?_

Obi-wan shook his head.

_No, mostly those who are force-sensitive can hear this. Master Qui-Gon can probably hear this, but you’ll learn to do this more efficiently, and towards smaller groups, as well as larger ones._

_That… ver- cool._

Amusement wafted over towards the two from where Qui-Gon was. Anakin didn’t know exactly how he knew, but he was certain it came from the old Jedi, who was in conversation with the pilot of a small transport.

_Pay attention, young ones. We will be heading to the Temple soon._

Anakin blinked at Qui-Gon, who was metres away while he stood right next to Obi-wan. It had sounded as if the man was right next to him, he could even feel that the sound came in through his left ear, away from Obi-wan. 

As they loaded into the transport, Anakin grew quiet. 

He mostly observed his surroundings: the buildings that seemed to stretch from the planet’s surface to the edge of the atmosphere, the rush of traffic, the glint of metal in the setting sun, _one sun_ and not two, that gave the place an ethereal glow like dying embers against sparks in the dim light. 

He also was holding his breath, the butterflies that had infested his stomach were riling up, beating their wings against the linings of his intestines, tickling him, making him nauseous beyond belief. 

He still felt exhausted from losing his mother, and the added bodily fatigue did nothing to quell the anxiety gnawing away at his brain. 

Obi-wan looked over the empty seat between them at the young boy, staring over the exposed edge of the speeder at the lanes of traffic. 

“Are you alright?” Anakin sniffed, and shifted in lieu of an answer. 

He let his senses widen in the force, and sharply felt the anxiety of the boy.

“You are nervous.”

 _What… gave away?_ Anakin’s skill had improved to the point of being able to put sarcasm through his words, as muffled as they were by his lack of experience. 

“Is it the idea of the Council themselves?” Anakin shrugged, “Or the fear of their judgement?”

There was no response, but Obi-wan understood his apprehension.

He reflected back to when he was of age to become a Padawan, the first time.

He remembered the sinking feeling in his gut when the other Younglings in his group were paired with masters, he remembered the repeated trips to Ilum, searching in vain for his crystal until the cave had almost frozen over yet again, the disappointment, the desperate feelings of _not enough not enough_ that had ran through his head as a depreciating mantra. 

He remembered the excruciating solo meditations with Grandmaster Yoda, when he constantly felt the slightest disappointment from the old one, to see yet another passed over Choosing where young Kenobi was the last of the pick. 

Most of all, he remembered when he had finally been Chosen by Master Qui-Gon, and the elation he had felt. And how that elation had been shattered when he had learned from the gossip of the other Younglings in his year group that it had been only because the alternative was too young to train. And how Obi-wan had almost aged out and then been _assigned_ to a Master, like some burden.

Standing in front of the council was terrifying. The utter calmness, nothing but perfection, mirrored across the faces of all those on it made one feel hyper aware of all their own faults.

“It is alright to be nervous. I was, and still can be.”

Anakin glanced over at Obi-wan, eyes finally leaving the skyline. 

“Really?”

“Yes. Frequently, almost. I will be in there with you, as will Master Qui-Gon.”

Anakin hummed in acknowledgement.

“Will I be put with someone who seems like me?”

Obi-wan was taken aback, quite confused. There was nobody he had met that seemed like Anakin.

“Sorry, what is your meaning?”

“Someone like me. Like how you, Obi-wan, are with Qui-Gon. Is there anybody with a similar name? Or do I get a new one?”

Obi-wan chuckled lightly.

“Do you want a new name?”

“No… I suppose not.”

“Well then, you will remain Anakin Skywalker. And the Master you will have will be similar to you, but not in name. I was a coincidence when I was paired with Master Qui-Gon.”

Anakin nodded sagely. 

The transport stopped at the Temple, and Anakin’s eyes darted to Obi-wan’s, panicked. Obi-wan nodded at him reassuringly, and offered the boy his hand when he stepped from the transport. 

As they entered the Temple, Anakin dropped Obi-wan’s hand, and gazed around him in amazement. The ceiling seemed so far away, the columns gracefully climbing upwards. The simplistic colours that echoed the colours on Tatooine were relaxing and peaceful, the opposite of the suffocating monotony of the desert. The swell of people passing calmly through the hallways radiated serenity. There was no rush, only graceful intent, in their movements.

Glancing down a hallway they passed through, Anakin caught sight of a room full of shelves, with holobooks that went to the ceilings. A variety of Jedi walked through them, selecting those they needed, replacing others they no longer did. 

It was _wonderful._

Obi-wan smiled at the boy.

Qui-Gon stopped, turning to observe the scene. 

Anakin had drifted away from them, eyes wide, mouth opened softly. He walked, in a daze, towards one of the many large windows. The sight was magnificent, the rose gold of the sky danced across the buildings, the light making everything seem dreamlike. 

Anakin pinched himself lightly on the skin between his thumb and forefinger. Qui-Gon noticed, and laughed quietly. 

He let Anakin look around for a moment longer before clearing his throat.

“Come along, Anakin.”

* * *

  
  


“Very concerning, this turn of events is,” the small green creature at the head of the council rasped, pensively.

“Concerning, indeed,” came the rumble of the bald man near the creature, his chin on his palm, legs crossed ankle over knee. “I had come to assume that the Sith had died out with Darth Revan and Malak some thousands of years ago.”

“Fooled, me may have been. Blinded to the dark, I fear we have become.” The creature replied cryptically.

Anakin was stood at the back of the room at Qui-Gon’s request. Every now and then, one of the members of the Council would look over at him, waiting for the boy to appear in the narrative of the Jedi Master before them.

As Qui-Gon finished retelling the encounter with the Sith, he described the midi-chlorian count of Anakin Skywalker, indicating the boy behind him with a tilt of his head. He skimmed through how Anakin had won them the parts they needed to bring the Queen to Coruscant, and how his connection with the force was unusually strong for a child that had not been retrieved to train as a Youngling. 

“Old, he is, too old. Great risks, training him at this age, will bring.” The words of the Grandmaster echoed in the spacious room. 

_I’m much younger than Master Qui-Gon!_

Obi-wan stifled a snicker. Anakin grew more anxious.

He glanced at Qui-Gon for guidance. The Jedi continued to stare at the green Jedi. 

“I will train him myself.” He stated flatly.

The statement caused a small uproar.

“You cannot, you already have a Padawan learner.”

“Forgetting Young Kenobi, you are, Master Jinn.”

“Masters, if I may--”

“--I will train him, Master Yoda. I have set my mind to it--”

“--You are very stubborn, Jinn--”

“Speak, we will let Padawan Kenobi. Clarity, he shall bring.” Yoda said, ushering in quiet almost as soon as it had been destroyed.

Anakin looked at Obi-wan, who had crossed his arms over his chest, face calm.

“The boy has proven himself to be adept. He is able to convey his thoughts and emotions through the force at a considerable caliber given his lack of experience--”

 _Hey!_ Anakin silently protested. 

The Council turned to look at the human boy. His face went red as he became aware that his thoughts had been overheard by the entirety of the room’s occupants. All of whom were force-users, which Obi-wan had cautioned him of being able to hear. 

_So, young one. You can communicate through the force._ Anakin didn’t have a name for the person, but it came from the bald man, who was now leaning forwards intently, elbows on knees, hands together.

_I… think so, Mr Jedi Master… sir._

The bald man smirked.

_Master Windu will do._

Grandmaster Yoda observed the dialogue, three-clawed hand to his chin.

“Interesting… very interesting. Think over the matter, the Council will. Remain in your care, until then, young Skywalker will.”

The two Jedi in the centre of the room bowed, and Anakin followed suit from his corner of the doorway. Grandmaster Yoda studied him as Qui-Gon and Obi-wan made their way out of the room.

_Well done, young Skywalker._

Anakin shot a small smile towards Master Windu as he left with the two Jedi.

* * *

The next few days brought with them a flurry of activity. Anakin bid his goodbye to the Queen, who would relay his message to Padmé. He presented Master Qui-Gon with a small trinket he had carved on the flight to Coruscant from Tatooine in a show of thanks, and he had even shared a few conversations with Master Windu when he was available.

The Jedi Master was confused with the fascination that Skywalker had taken in him, but was glad for the few moments to give information about the Jedi to the young one, outside of the biased and somewhat meddling interpretation that Jinn had been perpetrating. Skywalker also presented Master Windu with a small trinket, but this one was smaller, and was able to glow faintly after exposure to light. 

The Jedi was taken aback by the kindness, and the sentiment of which the gift carried, but thanked the boy nonetheless, adding it to his belt, near where he clipped his lightsabre. 

As the two Jedi from Naboo were busy with their own affairs, Anakin was able to roam around the Temple as he wished, and he was embraced by the older Jedi there. They showed him their lightsabre hilts, and he commented on the intricacy or minimalism of the unique designs. One Jedi in particular, a green Nautolan, drew Anakin’s interest, and he would sit as Jedi Kit Fisto would explain the Water Worlds he frequented, completely dumbfounded as to the existence of _that much water_ in one place. In return, Fisto would listen to Anakin describe Tatooine, and the moisture farmers that frequented the shop he worked under Watto. He responded appropriately as Anakin described the horrors of the Hutt power structure, the abundance and prevalence of slavery on Tatooine, and how podraces worked. 

Whereas the boy was numbed to the circumstances in which he was raised, the master was stricken to find such blatant corruption in one place.

Because of his gentle and foreign nature, Anakin frequently sought out Fisto, who unbeknownst to him had a good deal of empathy for what Anakin had been through. He had seen much in his adventures and missions off of Coruscant, and had, at times, considered breeching protocol to save the enslaved people in the neutral systems.

* * *

  
  


“Where are we going, Master Qui-Gon?”

“Back to Naboo, young one.” the Jedi replied evenly.

“Oh,” Anakin paused, perplexed. “Will we return to the Temple afterwards? Master Fisto said he would show me--”

Qui-Gon cut off his sentence as he dropped to face Anakin, putting his hands on his shoulders.

“I am sorry to interrupt, but it is of most importance that we make haste in our venture. I would wish very much to leave you at the safety of the Temple, but as you are under my protection, I need to take you with me to Naboo. Will you permit me to do so?”

Anakin nodded, brow creased minutely.

Obi-wan caught up to Anakin after Qui-Gon forged ahead through the halls towards the landing pad. 

“What’s this I hear about you gifting a small item to Master Windu?” he poked teasingly.

“What-- how did you know?” Anakin stumbled, eyes wide. Obi-wan laughed.

“It’s not a bad thing, I just figured he would intimidate you as much as he intimidates me.”

“You? You’re scared of Master Windu?”

“Shh! Don’t spread lies,” he winked, “And I’m not scared. He just… unsettles me at times.”

Anakin nodded, conspiratorial.

“You are scared of him.”

“Hush, you!”

“Come along now, boys.” Master Jinn called from ahead of them. They snickered, but quickened their pace as they rounded the final corner, and strode out on to the landing pad where the Nabooian Cruiser awaited them.

* * *

  
  


“What do you mean you want me to stay behind?”

“This place is not safe, Anakin. Find a place to hide, and _stay put_ until I come back for you. Understood?”

“I guess so,” Anakin replied glumly. He had a bad feeling about leaving Qui-Gon’s side. 

Obi-wan looked at the two and pursed his lips, Anakin was practically glowing with remorse, but had done nothing wrong.

_You alright?_

Anakin was silent.

Then, Obi-wan found himself standing in front of the Sith Lord with his master. 

They ignited their sabres, and a chill of fear ran down Obi-wan’s spine as the Dathomirian ignited the other side of his blade. 

The next thing he registered, they were alone with the Sith, their blades crashing against his, but he was just fast enough to keep up with them, no matter how often Obi-wan switched his fighting styles, no matter how relentless his Master was with his parries. 

They entered the room of the Palace surrounded by energy generators. Platforms raced across the levels above them, the room cavernous, purple glow making everything slightly painful to look at beyond the bright yellows that resulted in the lightsabres clashing, the sparks flying. Obi-wan was beginning to see the outlines of the sabres when he blinked, his vision warped by the constant brightness. 

Then the ray shields were activated.

The Sith raced into the corridor, the shields closing behind him, partitioning the hallway into private sectors. His master was on his heels, separated by one or two shields, Obi-wan could not see properly from where he was, metres away from them, several shields separating him from his Master, from the Sith.

The shields hummed with electricity, sparks flying from them when the Sith prodded the light with his blade. Qui-Gon had crouched into a meditative pose, making him seem at the mercy of the imposing Dathomirian. The Padawan felt helpless, so far from the conflict, yet so close. He had to remind himself that his Master was capable, that he had faced the menace before, and had been winning the fight. That his Master had faced forty years of the galaxy, and would face the next forty with his usual grace.

The ray shields deactivated, painstakingly slowly, one at a time.

Obi-wan sprinted for his master, but just as he was to aid him, the final ray shield separating him from Qui-Gon Jinn was activated. 

He watched the figures whirl, and his heart cinched in his chest a moment before his Master was impaled on one end of the scarlet lightsabre.

“NO!” he screamed, voice ripped with agony.

He felt, faintly, a gentle brush of concern from somewhere, but he was too overcharged with adrenaline to register it completely. 

He watched as the Dathomirian Sith wrested the blade from his Master’s body, which now lay prone on the ground, near the edge of a deep impression in the floor that Obi-wan couldn’t see the bottom of from where he was. 

The Sith stalked his side of the ray shield, the exposed red of his face from behind the tattoos adding a sinister look to the tinted surroundings of the room beyond him.

Obi-wan bounced on the balls of his feet. He was restless. Anxious. 

_Calm, my Padawan. The battle is not yet lost._

Hearing his Master’s voice so close gave him the rock he needed to ground himself in the present. 

There was nothing other than the force.

There was nothing other than the rush of blood in his ears.

Nothing other than the electric scratch of the lightsabre on the ray shield.

Nothing other than the calm which now surrounded him.

He could feel a sense of triumph somewhere far from here, but he ignored it.

There was no pain, only peace.

The ray shield deactivated. 

Sensing his opponent’s next move, Obi-wan dodged the overhand strike, rolling behind the Sith and meeting his sweeping underhand.

He pinned the lightsabre down with his own, the red bouncing across the smooth floor, his blue lightsabre glowing defiantly. 

He jumped out of the way as the Sith changed tactics, and switched to a more aggressive defense. The Sith shoved upwards on Obi-wan’s lightsabre, forcing him to leap into a backwards jump, knees to his chest, to avoid losing his legs below the knees.

They continued on, the Sith growing more impatient, more sluggish in his movements. Obi-wan carried on despite the burning of his muscles, the sweat that threatened to slick his hands and make him lose grip of his weapon. 

Not that he could remember in particular how he got there, but he was down the shaft. His lightsabre soared past him into the depths of the tunnel, and he hung by his hands to a small ledge that jutted into the otherwise circular interior. 

The Sith stalked the ground above him, chipping the metal of the tunnel mouth above him, sending bright hot sparks down to hit his hands, to burn holes in his tunic. 

He reached out in the force. He felt his master fading away.

_His master!_

The abandoned emerald lightsabre was only metres away, all he had to do was get to it.

But how? He had no ground to stand upon. 

The Sith held the high ground. 

There was no way he could vault over --

Oh. 

_Oh._

He had an idea.

Obi-wan closed his eyes, and stretched further. He could feel the lightsabre, he could feel how it would hit his palm when he made it out of the tunnel.

He could feel his arms, which were growing weaker by the minute. He pulled the force closer to him, and let it flow through him. He let it pull him back together.

He pulled on the ledge with more strength than he knew he had. 

He soared over the head of the Sith, missing the Dathomirian’s spikes by mere centimetres. 

The lightsabre hit his palm, and he ignited it, using the surprise he garnered to bring it in an arc before him.

There was a grunt of pain. 

The Dathomirian looked to him, slightly confused. 

Then he slid backwards.

Down, down, down… 

Obi-wan watched as the figure fell apart, legs to the left, torso to the right, the pieces hitting the sides of the duct, the echoes unpleasant, but satisfactory.

He ran to Qui-Gon’s side when he could no longer see the Sith.

Falling to his knees, he cradled his Master’s head in his arms, patting at his chest, over the cauterised hole there, just to the left of his sternum.

“Master, I’m so sorry, I thought--”

Qui-Gon weakly raised his hand to Obi-wan’s cheek.

“Cease your agony, young one. You have done nothing to disappoint me.”

A sob was wrenched from Obi-wan’s throat, his head tilting so that his forehead pressed to Qui-Gon’s.

“The boy…” Qui-Gon started, words weak.

“I will stay with him, Master.”

“You… will train him,” the rapidly weakening Jedi coughed slightly, his face greying with every second passing.

“Master, I haven’t passed my trials! I’ve been a Padawan for barely five years--”

“This is what I wish, young one. You will do remarkably.”

Obi-wan leaned backwards, tears now openly streaming down his face, his skin red and blotchy, warmed from the increased blood flow there. 

“I fear I will let you down! I have so much to learn, I have so much to learn from _you_ and there’s no time--”

Obi-wan stilled as calloused fingers loosely traced his jaw, then trailing behind his neck.

He could feel his Master fading… fading… his force signature both dimmed beyond recognition and lit up like a nebula.

“I know you won’t let me down.”

The grip left his hand, and Obi-wan had never known such a grief.

* * *

  
  


Anakin found himself being pulled from yet _another_ ship for the second time that week. 

People congratulated him, flooding out of identical yellow ships, all in the Nabooian fashion.

The Astromech droid behind him whirred with excitement, being lowered from the position in the ship. He recognised it as R2-D2 from the Nabooian Cruiser, it had belonged to the crew who escorted the Queen.

He was smiling, feeling so content to have made so many this happy, when he felt a tidal wave of mourning collide with him.

Nobody else seemed to register it. 

Anakin glanced around him, panic beginning to gnaw at his insides. 

He felt as if someone had taken a blaster and shot him through the heart, nearly as much pain as he had felt when he saw his mom collide with the speeder bike days ago.

Everybody else in the hanger was preoccupied with rejoycing that they did not notice the small boy, who had only moments before been the centre of their attentions and joys, slip away.

* * *

  
  


Anakin met up with Obi-wan before the funeral.

He felt the Padawan’s loss. 

He was uncharacteristically quiet. 

As they stood together, side by side facing the pyre, the firelight dancing across their faces, Anakin felt Obi-wan turn to him.

“You _will_ be a Jedi, Anakin. I promise you.”

Anakin felt tears well up within his eyes again, and latched on to Obi-wan’s fingers. He nodded. 

Master Windu stood by Grandmaster Yoda across the funeral pyre from them. He watched as the Queen looked on to the flames, as the boy was comforted by Obi-wan, as Obi-wan tried to comfort himself. 

He turned to Master Yoda.

“Two Sith, there are. Master, and Apprentice.”

“But which one was killed, the Master or the Apprentice?” Windu responded, cautious to not take his eyes off of the sense of darkness growing across the room, near Kenobi and young Skywalker.

“Of this, certain, I am not.”

Master Windu looked once more to the boy. 

Qui-Gon Jinn had been a good friend of his. 

He would not let his last wish be wasted. 

The boy would be a Jedi.

Regardless if he was the Chosen One.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whew! this one took a little longer than expected.  
> once again, comments? very appreciate.  
> like, realllllly appreciate.  
> :)
> 
> also ! typos. try to avoid, but then again. champagne. mwah.
> 
> stay safe kiddos  
> xox spiders


	3. In my head, I do everything right

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We see the Temple life and Anakin's time as a Youngling.  
> As Obi-wan struggles to adjust to Knighthood, he finds himself in the company of Mace Windu, who offers the man guidance.
> 
> Song(s) of the Chapter: Hay Fever - Eyedea & Abilities; Supercut - Lorde

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello lovelies !  
> i'm so flattered at the positive feedback this fic has gotten in the past two days, so here's the third instalment, which informally goes out to @lazilywayward for the encouragement :)

The Muun stalked the empty room. 

He had felt the change in his Apprentice’s demeanor. 

Something was amiss. 

His Apprentice was his greatest achievement yet. He took his own knowledge, all of it, and had sewn it into the mind of an incredibly powerful, if slightly less than himself, being. They would be a match the Galaxy had never forseen, greater than the dyad of Darth Revan and Darth Malak. 

They would usher in a new Era of being, one that they would oversee for a millennia.

He was so very close to his objective, his purpose. He felt it within his grasp. 

For now, he would await the return of his Apprentice, who had secured a pivotal role in the Galactic Republic. 

Letting the younger be the face of their power was an advantage he did not take lightly. The human was charming, and cunning. He knew when and how to strike. He was the legs, the Muun himself the brain. 

All he needed was to wait a few years longer. 

The chamber was massive. The very air humming with sheer power. 

His Eternal Sith were busy at work, those who otherwise were not, sat in the stands far from the Throne, immersed in a deep meditative state. 

Everything was set for his plan. 

All he needed was the Sample.

All he needed was to wait a few years more. 

* * *

Obi-wan sat in front of the mirror, steadying himself. 

Anakin was a room down from him, closer to the other Younglings in his age group. 

Anakin had initially been placed with the youngest, which had bothered the boy slightly, but not to anyone’s outward knowledge. He quickly advanced through the groups until he settled with his age, being placed in the Gundark Clan with nineteen others. 

Obi-wan worried for the boy, worried that he would be teased or made ‘other’ by the Younglings who had been with the Order for the majority of their lives. Instead, they seemed to take a liking to him. Obi-wan chalked his anxious behaviours up to a projection of his own experiences onto Anakin. 

Briefly reaching out, he felt Anakin’s signature through the walls that separated them. He shone brightly, and Obi-wan sensed his concentration,  _ studying perhaps? _

Anakin’s signature twinkled in response to the inquiry. 

Obi-wan took that as a yes. The boy’s dedication to his studies was truly impressive, much better than his own had been.

And that brings him back to the present.

Meeting his own eyes, he took a shuddering breath. 

He hadn’t slept much in the three weeks since the funeral. He had preoccupied himself with his training, with his studies, with preparing for his Trials of Knighthood. With worrying over Anakin. 

Every now and then when he was checking in on the boy’s trainings, Master Windu would step out of the shadows next to him, which had used to make Obi-wan flinch terribly. Now, all theJedi Master got was a numb nod in response to his sneaking antics.

“The boy is in good hands.”

Obi-wan nodded slightly, eyes never leaving the blond.

“Qui-Gon trained you well, and you have helped Anakin find a home in the Temple.”

“I didn’t want to let my Master down.”

_ I didn’t want to kark up, and have had Anakin end up like me. _

The taller man sighed, catching the unsaid statement. Obi-wan hadn’t projected it, but he didn’t need to. The lines of his brow, the bruising beneath his eye, and his sallow face said it all. 

He was scared. 

“You know, young Kenobi,” Master Windu started, turning to face the man besides him, “I knew your master very well.”

At the lack of response, he continued on, placing a hand lightly on Kenobi’s shoulder.

“He would have been very proud of you.”

Obi-wan had to bite his lip to stop it trembling. He had known, somewhere deep within himself, that he wasn’t letting down his Master. But to hear it from someone else, especially someone who had intimidated him so much only a month prior, it made him want to believe it. 

“I have been speaking with the Grandmaster,” Windu continued, looking away from Obi-wan once more, and towards the Gundark Clan’s basic lightsabre training, “I have put the motion in place to waive your Trials and promote you directly to Knighthood.”

Obi-wan snapped out of his daze abruptly.

His mind began racing at lightspeed, conflicting thoughts of  _ how how how _ and  _ thank you _ echoing in his brain.

“Master Windu?”

“You are beyond deserving of the rank, Kenobi. You faced down the Sith Lord Darth Maul, you endured the loss of your Master without wavering from the light. You have managed to recruit one of the brightest Younglings to step foot within the Temple, and you have overcome your circumstances to make a name for yourself among us.”

Obi-wan swallowed the butterflies threatening to come up his throat.

“I… I don’t know what to say.”

Windu smirked at that. “You don’t need to say anything. Let the Grandmaster do the talking.”

Obi-wan smiled weakly, but his eyes shone with gratitude.

Mace Windu squeezed his shoulder.

“There is one final matter, however, that will need to be discussed.”

“Yes, Master?”

“The removal of your Padawan braid.”

Obi-wan felt his heart sink.

“It is tradition for a Master to remove the braid of their Padawan, but as Qui-Gon has moved on to become one with the Force, the Council has decided to leave it up to you to decide how you would have it removed.”

Obi-wan stilled. He repeated the words over in his head once more, to process them more completely.

“I, for one, told Grandmaster Yoda that I would remove the braid in Qui-Gon’s place, should you wish.”

The younger man looked up, meeting the eyes of the older Jedi.

His heart swarmed with emotions, but they ran by too quickly for him to discern, and he pushed them aside before they threatened to overtake his judgement.

He opened his mouth, but then decided to close it.

_ It is important to me that I be the one to do it myself, Master Windu. _

The bald man nodded, sending a slight wave of understanding to the young man in front of him.

Obi-wan inclined his head in a half-bow, truly grateful for the offer. 

He had also decided to forgo the formalities. He stood in front of the Council when they declared him a Jedi Knight, Grandmaster Yoda knighted him himself with his brilliantly green lightsabre. It was tradition that in lieu of a Master Knighting the Padawan, Yoda would do so himself. 

Obi-wan hated that his first thought was one of trepidation, concerned that he would lose his head should he not bow low enough for the small creature to sufficiently reach both of his shoulders. 

After he rose, now Jedi Knight Obi-wan Kenobi, he bowed in thanks, and left the room. 

That led to where he was now. Staring at his own face in the mirror. 

He closed his eyes in favour of avoiding his own gaze, the sight of himself making him uneasy. 

Slowly, carefully, he lowered his guard around his own sorrow, letting it numb him. 

When he reopened his eyes, he felt the heat in his cheeks, the burning behind his irises. He observed his blotchy face, swollen red with emotion, and shakily raised his Master’s lightsabre. 

Igniting it, he felt another wave of grief hit him. He had not seen it since he last deactivated it after slaying the Sith that killed his Master. 

The green was familiar. Comforting in the wake of the sorrow. He let the colour wash over him, distorting the reflection he saw before him. He looked almost healthy in the light of it, the green smoothing his features, casting his face into shadows where it did not reach. 

Shakily, he raised his hand, fumbling as he grasped the braid behind his right ear. The bands that showed his focuses, lightsabre wielding and piloting, did not reflect the light. His left hand trembled as he pulled the braid away from his head, and he had to stop briefly before cutting it, his hands shaking so badly that he was in danger of removing his ear along with it. 

He wasn’t able to stop the torrent of tears that fell from his eyes as he severed the braid, the faint smell of singed hair lingering in the air along with the heat by his ear. He deactivated the sabre, his hand gently dropping to his knee, the hilt rolling to the floor. The other hand cradled the braid to his chest, just above his heart. Knees met his chest as he wrapped himself into a tight ball, unable to stop  _ feeling _ everything around him. 

Eventually, he came to a rest in a foetal position, laying on his left side, the sabre a metre away from his face. His breathing evened, and he pulled himself back together.

Rolling back to sit with his legs crossed, he reached for the hilt of the sabre. 

It was then, as he was preparing to wrap his Padawan braid around the hit, that he noticed something different about it. 

About a centimetre away from the base of the hilt, a small tile had been fused into the handle.

Looking closely at it, he recognised the shape, the patterns meticulously carved into it with a delicate hand. 

He smiled softly to himself. His master, the Noble Qui-Gon Jinn, had been quite the sentimentalist. 

The tile in the hilt was the one that Anakin had made for him nearly a month ago when he thanked the man for freeing him. It was similar to that carried by Master Windu on his belt. Closing his eyes, and allowing himself to feel that light swell of affection for the boy who was so devoted to a stranger, he wrapped his braid around the hilt, using the bottom band to hold it together. 

He pulled himself off of his knees and found his small box of personal objects. It wasn’t necessarily of the Jedi Way to hold onto things, but sometimes they came in useful. For remembering the good amidst all of the chaos he faced on missions.

He let out a quiet laugh as he passed the turquoise carved crystal from his assignment on Mandalore, and the carved bit of tree from Kashyyyk, set with iron. Obi-wan carefully placed his Master’s sabre in the box, fingertips lingering on it as he closed the lid. 

* * *

“Obi-wan! Wait up!”

Anakin jogged to meet the Jedi, who was walking down the hall towards the library before he paused to let the boy catch up to him.

“Hello, Youngling Skywalker,” Obi-wan said with a smirk.

“Hello Knight Kenobi,” Anakin giggled as he walked alongside the taller man. Due to the difference in their stride lengths, Anakin had to take one and a half paces for each that the Jedi Knight took.

“How are you enjoying your Clan? I’ve seen some of your trainings, you are doing quite well, and seem to fit in quite well with the others.”

Anakin shrugged self-consciously. “I have friends, but I don’t know if I’d say I’m doing  _ quite _ well…” he trailed off.

Obi-wan raised an eyebrow, stopping to look down at the boy.

“Why is that, Anakin?”

“Well… I just,” he looked away towards the floor, sighing. “I feel like I’m… late. Which I am, and they say they don’t mind, but I feel like I interrupted what they had going on?”

Obi-wan nodded, and motioned for Anakin to step towards a window with him. They sat facing each other on the ledge, backs against the columns flanking the glass.

“You know, Anakin, I felt similar when I was a Youngling.” 

The boy’s eyes widened, brows furrowing as he processed the admission.

“You, you did?”

“Yes, I was a Youngling longer than many. I wasn’t able to connect with others as well as you are.”

“I’m sorry,” Anakin replied softly, sympathy radiating off of him. Obi-wan reached forwards and ruffled his hair.

“No fault of yours, young one.” Anakin playfully swatted at the offending hand.

“Hey! I’m not that much younger than you!”

“So you are, but, I’m taller. So therefore, you are younger than I by far.”

Obi-wan leaned back against his pillar, laughing.

“Oh yeah? One day, I’ll be taller than you.”

“Is that so?”

“Kriff yeah it is.”

“Watch your language,” Obi-wan tutted. “It isn’t becoming of you.”

Anakin responded with a stuck-out tongue.

* * *

Obi-wan spent the next few months training, going over his lightsabre stances tirelessly, pushing through the leaden feelings in his arms. After he could no longer lift his arms, he would run. He would run as fast as he could for as long as he could, and when he wanted to stop, when his body protested, he ran harder.

Yoda paid attention to the young Knight. He noticed the close bond he shared with Youngling Skywalker. As he meditated on his levitating platform, he pondered what to do when the boy was ready to become a Padawan. 

Putting him with anyone else besides Kenobi would be potentially harmful for both men. There was Master Windu to consider, as he had a soft spot for the boy, and Master Fisto, who had shown interest in training a Padawan this next Choosing. Jedi Kenobi was barely sixteen, the youngest Jedi Knight to date. He needed more time to find his balance within the force before taking on an Apprentice. To be forcefully separated from a master so soon had its consequences. Likely, Kenobi had felt his master die in his arms, as their bond was strong, due to their status as Padawan and Master. 

Yoda wondered if this was the right decision, to send Kenobi out to missions on his own, when he was so emotionally vulnerable. He was walking like a wound exposed to the sun, he feigned serenity, but the Grandmaster keenly felt the sense of directionlessness that plagued the human. Should Skywalker be separated from Kenobi, it could the latter to lose sight of the balance he needed. Skywalker was more powerful than any other Yoda had encountered, although he did not yet know how this would impact his trainings. 

Wise, then, it would be to keep the two together, Yoda settled. He would confer with Windu on the matter, but he was sure it was the right decision.

* * *

“You want me to  _ what?” _

“Train the boy, Kenobi. It is the will of the Grandmaster that you do so.”

Obi-wan staggered back a step in shock, failing to process the implication that he was to have an Apprentice at his age, and the apprentice was barely six years younger than he was.

“You, want me, of  _ all _ the Jedi available, to train who you believe to be the Chosen One.”

Mace Windu nodded, arms folded across his chest.

“You already share a close bond with the child, so it would be in the best interest of all involved that the two of you remain together.”

Obi-wan blinked at him.

“Furthermore,” Windu continued, “I am to aid you in the training, although I will not share the Training Bond to be formed between you. Think of me as a guide.” 

Obi-wan put his head in his hands, dragging one down his mouth until it came to rest at his chin.

“Me.”

“You.” Windu nodded.

“Does he know yet?”

The Master shook his head. “We viewed it to be best should you breech the subject to him on the day of the Choosing. I had volunteered to be the one Choosing him on your behalf at the Ceremony, but given my status on the Council, it would have appeared biased.”

The logic in his statement was evident to Kenobi, but he felt like he was being boiled alive, albeit gently.

“The age difference, it does not concern the Grandmaster?”

Windu tilted his head slightly, thinking on the matter.

“I do not believe it does. The main concern was about your readiness, but the majority supported my decision to have you train Skywalker.”

To hear of the man’s faith in him before the entire Council was astonishing. He had grown closer to Master Windu in the few months since his Master’s death, but it made him feel a surge of pride at the extent of Windu’s regard for his potential.

“Thank you, Master Windu.”

Windu put his hand on Kenobi’s shoulder, arm around his back.

“I am very proud of you, young Kenobi.”

Obi-wan beamed up at him.

* * *

  
  


“I know something you don’t know,” Obi-wan said in a sing-song voice, leaning around a column to interrupt Anakin’s journey to the Temple gardens.

“Obi-wan!” Anakin exclaimed, having been too preoccupied with his thoughts to sense the Jedi approaching him.

“Hello, Anakin.” Obi-wan smiled.

“What do you know that I don’t know?”

“Wouldn’t  _ you  _ like to know,” Obi-wan laughed, teasingly echoing his conversation with Anakin when they had met.

“Yes, that’s why I asked. Tell me,” Anakin whined.

“There’s no fun in that! You’ll find out soon enough.” Obi-wan ruffled his hair, noticing with a frown that Anakin had grown since he had last seen him.

“It is unbecoming of a Jedi Knight to withhold secrets amongst his peers.”

Obi-wan barked a laugh. “Who told you  _ that?” _

“Master Windu,” he replied, feigning innocence.

“Uh-huh. And what was it that caused him to grant you this line of wisdom?”

Anakin blushed and looked down.

“I didn’t wish to tell my Clan where I was before I came to the Temple.”

Obi-wan hummed in acknowledgement. “That is understandable, but why did you need to?”

“They were curious as to why I got here so late.” Obi-wan nodded at that.

“And?”

“And they said they were sorry for my experience, and they would think no less of me because of where I came from.”

Anakin spared a small smile at that, staring now at Obi-wan’s knees rather than the floor near his feet.

“Did that make you feel better? Like you belonged more?”

Anakin nodded enthusiastically.

“I was on my way now to the gardens to practice my forms with some of my friends, would you like to join us?”

Obi-wan smirked. “I’m afraid I would only interfere, but thank you for the offer, Anakin.”

Anakin smiled before skipping off, waving over his shoulder as he went.

At that moment, Obi-wan’s excitement to be the one to train Anakin outweighed his misgivings about teaching the boy. He knew that he was able to rely on Master Windu for aid in the first year or so of trainings, and that Anakin had already learned all, and mastered many, of the basic trainings, so that he would not need to teach the boy everything from the foundations. 

* * *

  
  


The Choosing came within a month of when he last saw Anakin.

As the event neared, Anakin was preoccupied with his preparations for it, so he kept mostly to himself and to his Clan. Obi-wan was busy worrying about how he would go about his teaching method. He settled on mimicking Qui-Gon’s emphasis on balance, and the meditations. He did, however, note that Anakin strongly preferred to study the lightsabre, so he would be sure to prepare courses dedicated to that preference. And perhaps he would see to it that Anakin had access to mechanical trainings, as he was adept at circuitry already, including the creation of a droid on Tatooine, which he hadn’t met, but was told was quite advanced, especially when it was a creation of a nine year old in a hostile environment. 

Piloting, then, should also be considered.

He reflected on Anakin’s prowess at the Battle of Naboo, and how he managed to win the Boonta Eve Podrace with a disassembling pod, navigating the difficult course, and the added obstacles of the cheating racers. Yes, piloting would do nicely. 

Master Windu offered help in the lightsabre techniques, as he himself was the master of the Vaapad form, and his excellency would give Anakin a rounded curriculum. 

_ Maybe he was overthinking this. _

Obi-wan sighed. He was incredibly worried. 

By the time the Choosing was in mid-swing, Anakin had dueled more than half of his Clan, winning four times out of five. Obi-wan felt the boy’s accomplishment, and deservingly so, his satisfaction with his placement. 

When the Younglings lined up, Obi-wan stifled his nausea at the familiarity of the formation. But he knew that Anakin would be fine, he was going to be his Padawan. The others had been notified, so there would be no scrambling. 

Yoda hovered nearby, on his platform that brought him to the eye-level of the other Masters and Knights that stood around him. There were twenty-three of them, which Obi-wan hoped would benefit the twenty Younglings. He didn’t want to see anyone overlooked, as he had been.

The room drew to a quiet as Yoda clicked his staff on the platform. 

Anakin stood at attention, hands clasped behind him, staring straight at the Grandmaster, fixated on his every move.

Obi-wan could feel the hope radiating off of him in waves, and he was sure that the others where he stood could feel it as well. Then again, he was more keenly attuned to Anakin’s emotions, so it was more likely that they felt the hopes of the collective, rather than that of the individuals. He stood still as the Jedi around him spoke through the force, choosing their Padawans. Obi-wan was forth in the line. 

_ Anakin Skywalker. _

He felt Master Windu smile from the back of the room, overseeing the duels.

The line progressed, the masters silently conferring as they watched the Younglings.

Obi-wan couldn’t stop the elation he felt when he heard all twenty names claimed. Nobody will be alone this time, he thought. 

Once they had settled on the names, they announced one by one who they would be training. 

In the same order, after Master Junda chose her Padawan, Obi-wan looked at Anakin, smiling.

“I will train Anakin Skywalker.”

He wouldn’t trade the whole galaxy for the blinding smile that lit up the boy’s face. It made his heart melt, the gratitude, and the joy, rolling through the force towards him from Anakin. 

It may have been his imagination, but the boy seemed to be tearing up as he met Obi-wan’s eyes.

The rest of the Younglings, now Padawans, were paired with their masters. While the others shook hands, Anakin practically sprinted over to Obi-wan before throwing his arms around the man’s waist. Obi-wan hugged him back, chuckling.

When Anakin released him, Mace Windu approached the two, before putting his hand on Anakin’s shoulders, much like how he had done so to Kenobi in the past.

“Padawan Skywalker, congratulations,” he said, a smile on his face.

Anakin’s smile looked like it would split his face in half.

“Thank you, Master Windu!”

The man bowed his head slightly in acceptance of the statement before looking to Kenobi, and offering the man his hand. Kenobi shook it, and then turned to Anakin, explaining how Windu was to aid in his mentoring. Anakin shone even brighter.

_ Thank you, Master Windu. _

_ You are very welcome, Knight Kenobi. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let me know what you think !  
> as always, stay safe, stay healthy.  
> and above all: do no harm, but take no shit.  
> you are worthy of happiness.
> 
> and hey ! i'm not drunk this time !  
> :D  
> love love love !  
> xox spiders


	4. I can't stand to fight all time, but I cant seem to take the fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the dark plot thickens, and we go back to Naboo for the peace ceremony.
> 
> song of the chapter:  
> ares - winters island

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shorter than i would have wished, but the next chapter will be several years in to anakin's trainings ;)

“I am still awaiting your collected Sample, apprentice.”

The man shuddered. He sent a wave of fear through the force to the Muun, but it disguised his internal spike of anger. 

“I have not yet been able to get close to the Boy, my Master.”

The Muun straightened his back from where he had been hunched over, his face level with the human’s. Now he stood at his full height, elongated face taking up much of the human’s field of vision.

“How interesting. It has been months, and still you keep me waiting. You have one more month,”

The man moved to interject, but was cut off by an invisible grip at the sides of his face, pressure being applied behind both of his ears and along his jaw.

“Or otherwise, I will find a suitable replacement, and though I have grown accustomed to your presence, I can as easily reverse the trainings I have given you, and instead bestow them on someone more deserving.”

The human glared defiantly, gritting his teeth together hard enough to chip the back of a front tooth. 

“That will not be necessary. Your Sample shall arrive within the week. I have an opportune moment arriving with the celebration tomorrow.”

“A week, then.”

“I shall not disappoint you, Master.”

* * *

It was announced that in honour of the recovery of Theed Palace from the Battle of Naboo, a celebration was to be held to commemorate those lost during the battles, and of the unity of the Nabooians and the Gungans. Additionally, the Queen had notified to the Jedi Council that she would be delighted if the Jedi could attend, especially of Knight Kenobi and Padawan Skywalker’s attendance. This was written as an invitation, but interpreted as a demand. 

Due to the lack of exposure from two suns, Anakin’s hair had grown a bit darker, and had been shaved down to showcase his Padawan Learner’s braid. Obi-wan had allowed his to grow out more, once he removed that force forsaken ponytail at the back. Why his late master decided that the ponytail was a good idea was beyond his reckoning. 

They arrived on Naboo a day prior to the festivities, and were lead to a suite in the northern wing of the palace, where Master Windu would room nextdoor to them, and Master Yoda beyond him. Other Jedi were roomed across the hall from them, often doubling up in the luxurious accommodations. 

Each of the beds in the rooms had a canopy with heavy drapes hanging from them. Anakin had run straight for the bed with turquoise drapes, and had taken a leap at the last moment, landing on the bed only to bounce an impressive height when he had met the bed with his stomach, arms open. Obi-wan stifled a laugh at the boy’s antics, and settled for the bed with the beige drapes across the room. 

“Excited, my young Padawan?”

“Absolutely! I haven’t seen this much of this colour in my life!”

Obi-wan hummed in agreement. It figures, he thought, the dyes on Tatooine were incredibly pricey, and most opted for beige clothing to blend in to the surrounding desert. 

“Do you like the colour, Anakin?” The boy nodded vigorously.

“It’s called turquoise. There’s a lot of it on some planets,”

“Really? Is it common?” 

“In some areas, yes. When I visited Christophsis with Qui-Gon several years back, it was everywhere.”

Anakin’s eyes widened. Obi-wan continued.

“Over there, beige is considered very rare.”

Anakin frowned, “Really?”

Obi-wan nodded sagely, fighting a grin that threatened to betray his joke. Anakin narrowed his eyes. He smirked with one side of his mouth.

“You’re lying,” he laughed.

“I absolutely am _not_ lying!” but his laugh betrayed him.

“Why would _anyone_ find it rare! It’s _everywhere_ on Tatooine!”

Obi-wan gasped in mock-offense, gesturing at his robes, and then at Anakin’s.

“Hey! As soon as I’m old enough, I’m _never_ wearing this colour again! Just watch me!”

“Really, then? What other colours are at your disposal then, Oh Mighty One?”

“I don’t know, maybe something darker, like Master Windu!”

“What like Master Windu?” the man himself said as he leaned in the doorway of the room.

“Master Windu!” Anakin shouted, running at the man and jumping at him for a hug.

“Hello, Anakin. What were you gossipping about?” Mace huffed, catching the boy as he collided with his chest in a very enthusiastic embrace. 

“Oh nothing, just how you have better robes than Obi-wan.”

Obi-wan made to protest, but was interrupted by a howl of laughter from the usually sober-mannered Jedi.

“You have good taste, young one. Not many can fully appreciate the more refined talent of style.”

Obi-wan gaped at the man, more shocked than offended. He was glad to see that he wasn’t the only one that the boy was attached to, and also glad that Windu held the boy in some regard in return. 

He frowned to himself as he felt a twinge of jealousy at the man being on the receiving end of such a joyous display of affection from Anakin, but he chalked this up to being around Anakin for the majority of the time, and brushed the thought aside accordingly. 

“Hey!” Obi-wan protested, “I happen to have great knowledge of fashionable taste.”

The others nodded solemnly at him, almost in sync. 

Obi-wan huffed, and rolled his eyes, smiling as he turned away to situate the items he brought with him.

  
  


As they all stood at attention during the parade, Anakin couldn’t help but feel nervous. Not only was he uncomfortable being so close to the focus point of the attentions of thousands, even though he knew, rationally, he wouldn’t be spared more than a passing glance given everything else going on, he felt cold. Given that he was used to a desert planet with dry, hot days, and cold, dry, nights, he should have taken the warm humidity of the atmosphere in stride, but he felt a chill. It was as if it seeped through the side of his head to fill every organ in his body with a heavy sense of dread. He pulled at Obi-wan’s mind through the new training bond. Obi-wan looked down at him, frowning slightly, the smile he had half-plastered to his face in order to fit the expected appearance fading. Anakin couldn’t look away from the Gungans approaching the steps. 

_What is wrong, Padawan?_

Anakin drew closer to the taller man, almost disappearing into his robe. Master Windu placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder closer to himself. The touch served to ground Anakin, but he felt nausea threaten to break his composure. This is a happy moment, he chided himself, I don’t need to interrupt it, it’s nothing. 

_Anakin,_ Mace sounded in the heads of both Skywalker and Kenobi, _what are you feeling?_

Anakin bit his lip to push back the tears that threatened to fall. Slowly, he focused on trying to open himself to the force, to let his emotions find his companions so that they might understand. 

Obi-wan groaned inwardly as an onslaught of pure terror rolled through him. Windu managed to stifle his flinch at the magnitude at which Anakin felt things. Stretching out his senses, he sought the source of Anakin’s dread, his eyes finding the main platform where the Queen, her handmaidens, the Gungans, and the senators were. The bald Jedi’s eyes narrowed, but he couldn’t discern a more specific source of the anxiety. 

“I will go find the Grandmaster,” he said, leaning down so that Obi-wan might hear him, “I will attempt to find a reason. Stay with the boy.” 

Obi-wan nodded, not needing the reminder. Anakin was terrified, and if Master Windu had little idea what about, it surely wasn’t good. 

Mace adjusted his hands so that they were on both of Anakin’s shoulders. He pushed a swell of calm through his palms to the boy, and felt him relax minutely. Then the man left, seeming to melt into the surrounding crowd. 

  
  


After the ceremony, the crowd began to disperse. At some point, several dozen people had managed to get incredibly intoxicated, and were running through the remaining crowd, pushing their way aimlessly as they surged past, exhilarated and smelling strongly of cheap liquor. Many people fell over due to the shenanigans, but didn’t seemed that bothered, too elated to mind. Frankly, Anakin couldn’t see the reason for such rejoyce, as they had only been under the threat for a week before the liberation of the planet, the liberation that came at the cost of master Qui-Gon, and hundreds of pilots that had fought on the front lines. He felt immediate shame following his thought process. Just because he had suffered for years, it didn’t need to invalidate anyone else’s suffering. He looked to the ground, ears going red despite no one else having been privy to his thoughts at that moment. Obi-wan had been stopped by the Queen, who was once again thanking him for his defeat of the Sith. 

Anakin bit back a smirk at the obvious discomfort of his Master, and of the blatant advances of the young Queen. He had to admit that she looked radiant, and even though his first conversation with her had been painstakingly awkward in hindsight, he no longer felt as infatuated with her as he had been then. It was only months ago, but he had learned so much since then, and even grown physically. 

He wouldn’t mind if someone had wanted to look at _him_ like that, though. 

Out of nowhere, Anakin found himself knocked onto his arms and legs as one of the drunk paradegoers pushed him. He frowned, surely he wouldn’t have been that lost in his own head as to not notice being pushed over? Yet, here he was. As he peeled his palms off of the ground, he winced, the skin having been pulled back with the impact and his palms had began to bleed. The scrapes had not stopped there, his tunic, which he had pushed the too-long sleeves above his elbows to avoid drowning his hands, hadn’t been there to guard his forearms, which also were scuffed and bleeding towards his elbows. 

“Anakin? Are you alright?” Obi-wan had dropped to his knees next to his Padawan, reaching out to survey the evidence of his fall. 

“Yeah, yeah I think so. One of those guys ran past me, and I guess I wasn’t fast enough to move out of their way,” he laughed, the sound distorted by the hiss that escaped his mouth when a cloth was pressed over his left elbow. His eyes widened when he saw what exactly that cloth was.

“Padmé - your Majesty! What are you doing?”

The woman in question had also dropped to her knees and was dabbing at his arms with one of the many petals from her very expensive-looking cape. Given her status, however, it was probably even more expensive than a small speeder. 

“It’s no bother, Ani. What _does_ matter is getting you patched up,” she smiled kindly at the boy, her iridescent cape now sporting blood spatters. 

“What _does_ matter, your Highness, is that you are leading a peace ceremony and now you have the blood of a child on your dress.”

Anakin gasped indignantly at his Master.

“A _child_ ? I’m ten! Also, a _war hero!”_

The man laughed, throwing his head back. 

“Oh do excuse me, Honourable One, I did not mean to so carelessly forget your sacrifices for this beautiful planet.”

Anakin sniffed. “You best not repeat your prior transgressions, O Tasteless One.”

Obi-wan swatted his Padawan with the sleeve of his cape. 

The Queen smiled fondly at the two, biting back a giggle. She nodded to them, before gracefully standing and slipping away to mingle with other attendees. 

Later that night, the two force users were settled back in their suite. Anakin was sniffing his hands, the slight scent of the bacta spray Obi-wan had used on them to help heal the cuts lingering. He scrunched up his nose, obviously not overly fond of the scent. 

“Obi-wan?” the boy questioned tentatively. 

“Yes, Anakin?” Obi-wan responded from behind the drawn curtains of his bed, the sound muffled from the heavy beige fabric. 

“Do you ever get scared for no reason?”

There was a pause as Obi-wan thought, quickly changing into the rest of his sleepwear before opening the drapes, facing the boy.

“Are you asking because of what happened earlier, or is there something new?”

“Earlier,”

Obi-wan nodded, thinking to himself. 

“I think, and so does Master Windu, that you may have been experiencing an anxiety attack,” at the boy’s tilted head and puzzled gaze, he continued, “where your mind senses much danger, despite none being apparent. Usually they occur seemingly without triggers, but they are no less distressing because of it.”

“So… I was scared.” Anakin seemed doubtful, and slightly bitter, though this was self-directed. He felt as though he had somehow disappointed his Master by allowing his emotions to govern his sense of his surroundings. 

“Well, yes, and no. You were ‘scared’ because you perceived a threat, and because you were preparing yourself to react to it. You weren’t being cowardly, and you were _not_ burdening me by sharing your distress with me, Anakin.”

“I never said I was --”

Obi-wan cut Anakin off with a meaningful look.

“Were you not just thinking that your emotions made you a burden to me because they seemed to have little cause?”

Anakin muttered mutinously to himself, looking down at his lap as he picked at a loose thread on the bedding.

Obi-wan crossed over, sitting down next to Anakin, who despite sinking slightly due to the weight, did not acknowledge his Master’s proximity.

“Hey,” Obi-wan bumped his shoulder against Anakin’s. The boy didn’t look up. 

“I get them too, sometimes.” Anakin’s fingers stilled for a moment, but he shrugged before continuing.

 _You don’t believe me?_ Obi-wan’s voice was gentle in the boy’s mind.

_I mean, I guess._

_I will take that as a ‘no, I don’t’ then._

Obi-wan wrapped his arm around Anakin, pulling the boy to his side lightly.

“You are not a disappointment Anakin. Least of all to me.”

Anakin’s shoulders shook with unshed tears. 

“How do you do it?” he sobbed into the teenager’s side, “how do you keep being, how do you just -- without,” he hiccupped, “without them?”

Oh, Obi-wan realised, this isn’t just about the anxiety attack. He misses his mother, and likely Qui-Gon, too. The ceremony probably hadn’t helped. 

It sure as hell hadn’t for him.

“I’m sorry, young one,” Obi-wan sighed, now wrapping both arms around the distraught boy, the bony shoulder poking at his ribs not deterring him in the slightest. Anakin fell sideways into his embrace, his head fitting under Obi-wan’s chin. 

They stayed like that for several minutes. Past when Anakin’s sobs had died down to the occasional shaky inhale, past when Obi-wan lost feeling in his leg from how Anakin was laying on it. 

* * *

Mace Windu rubbed his chin in thought. 

When he met with the Grandmaster, the green creature had shared his sense of concern over the boy’s anxiety, but was focused more on the dark cloud that prevented his clear sight into the surrounding force. 

It wasn’t the first time Skywalker had shown discomfort when in the presence of the Nabooian representatives, but given the extent of this one, it was… worrying. 

He resolved to further meditate over the problem, and in the mean time, reached out to find Anakin and Obi-wan’s force signatures. 

He frowned as he sensed the raw emotions rolling off of the boy, but given that he had just had a major onslaught of anxiety, it made sense. He felt faint grief clinging to both boys, and sent a small ripple of comfort through the force to them. He inwardly reprimanded himself for his attachment to the two, but given his history with Qui-Gon, having grown up with the man, he wasn’t as perturbed as he might have been.

There was something off, though, but he couldn’t quite pinpoint it. 

For now, his priority was taking care of the two boys his late friend had cared for above all others. It was what he had promised the body of his friend as he had watched it burn into the Force. 

* * *

The man rushed into the room, slamming the door behind him, shutting down the force signature he knew he was about to put out. 

He focused his energy, and sent the transmitted Sample he had acquired after the celebration. It hadn’t been difficult to get, it was all a matter of timing. 

The air around him went cold. 

“I congratulate you, my Apprentice. You have preformed most admirably. Report back to me, directly, as soon as you are able. We have much to discuss, and much to celebrate.”

The human smiled proudly, inclining his head to the projection of the Muun.

“I look forwards to our reunion, my Master.”

The projection smiled, and the Muun placed barely-there hands on the shoulders of the smaller man. 

“I am proud of what you have achieved. We are inevitable.”

The human bowed his head again.

Deeper this time, as he hid the sick grin on his face, eyes lacking all sense of warmth despite the glowing gold of his irises.

“We are indeed, Master.”

As the projection faded, the human once again thanked the suffocating darkness of Exegol. The murk the planet was the epicentre of masked all prying eyes, in both directions. 

Without his cooperation, his master had little idea what was going on in the galaxy save for the reliantly unreliable scouts the Muun sent out to report to him when his apprentice wasn’t able to contact him. 

He took a deep breath to settle his excitement before opening his eyes, the irises once again a cool blue. Unlocking the door and striding out into his office chambers, he nodded to his informant. The shorter human bowed, and took leave. The human was once again, alone. 

His hand slipped up his opposite sleeve, grasping the cool metal of the lightsabre hidden there. The other one seemed to purr as he stroked its twin. It had been _too long_ since they had tasted death. 

It was time to strike. 

“Ready my transport,” he rasped into a comm. 

“Yes, your Excellency,” his advisor responded, deep voice rumbling through the expensive speaker, the vaguest of metallic sounds giving away that the man wasn’t in the room.

His master dies.

Tonight. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello dears,  
> sorry it's been longer than i would have wanted since my last update, but school is kicking my ass (from a socially acceptable distance) and i managed to concuss myself two nights ago ! (i stood up into an open cabinet door. at a very high speed. it's a gift)  
> hopefully, after the next two days, i'll be able to update at my normal dailyish basis, but i just have to get through my college placement exams and my last gigantic exams of this year's education.
> 
> also do you guys listen to the songs? let me know x 
> 
> yours in pain and discomfort,  
> spiders xoxo
> 
> take care, lovelies


	5. All wrapped in cellophane, the feelings that we had

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> eight years later: enter anakin, a fed-up Windu, the Sassmaster himself, and a growing sense of unease ...
> 
> song of the chapter:  
> Cellophane - FKA twigs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for the lovely @flowerqueen

It had been eight years since the downfall of Darth Plagueis. 

The new Lord of the Sith had been training his new Apprentice, one who had become disillusioned with the Jedi and who had aided in the construction of an army for the Republic on his way to his new Master.

It would be his crowning piece in his plot against the Light should his late master’s project cease to preform admirably.

So far, the clone was growing as expected. It was more difficult to grow it so that it aged appropriately, given the age of the strain used in arranging its sequence, but it seemed satisfactory enough. Of course, every year since the first showed promising signs, a new batch was created as a fallback. Every now and then he would test out a clone, using his inside knowledge of the original to coach it. 

None have passed his tests thus far, but he had time. 

His apprentice was gearing up to unleash the coming war, the one that would serve to split the Republic, and send systems running into his awaiting arms. 

Given the success rate of the army brewing on Kamino, he would have more opportunities in the future to test out the private batch, should he need to use them, and the boy fail to be turned. 

He did have one more safetynet in his sleeve. 

It was to be deployed quite soon. 

This one was sure to succeed. 

* * *

“ANAKIN! Slow down!”

The young man in question cackled as he pushed the speeder into a sharper fall, the body of him and his passenger almost parallel to the rapidly-approaching ground. 

_ “Boy if you don’t slow down, Force help me--” _

He was cut off as the speeder leveled out sharply, the craft shooting through a narrow opening provided by cross traffic and a pedestrian bridge.

Anakin looked sheepishly to his passenger, only to be met with one of Mace Windu’s notorious scowls. He burst into laughter as the scowl deepened.

“I am sorry Master, I’m afraid I wasn’t able to hear you through the wind.”

“Sure you weren’t. If I had any hair left, I’d be surprised if it wasn’t white just because of the inordinate amount of time I spend around you.” his words were juxtaposed by the smirk on his face, eyes sparkling with amusement. 

“Well… are you at least awake now?” Anakin asked, bashful as he brought the speeder up to one of the more populated levels of Coruscant. 

“You’re not getting out of buying me caf, Skywalker.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” the boy smiled, pulling up to the cafe they frequented.

“So, what’s this new case the Council assigned Master Obi-wan and I?”

Windu raised an eyebrow as Anakin tried to stealthily blow on his caf to lower the temperature, taking a deep sip himself, savouring the burn in his mouth.

“The mission the Council has given to the  _ three _ of us is to watch out for unusual activity amongst the senators.”

Anakin tried to mirror Windu’s confidence in drinking the caf, but winced and immediately reached for the water near him to dull the sting.

“‘Unusual activity’? Amongst  _ senators _ of all people? Do they even have a ‘normal’?” he murmured petulantly, avoiding the smug look on Windu’s face.

“Well, a few murders is  _ a bit _ out of their normal activities. Usually they just try to stir up drama on one another to sabotage their opponent’s bills. Petty stuff,” he huffed. 

Anakin hummed, glaring at the caf, which was  _ finally _ starting to cool down. How the older man could drink the stuff at beyond boiling temperatures eluded him entirely. 

“Great. Can’t wait.”

Windu laughed, downing the rest of his caf before standing up, clapping the man on his shoulder. 

“Thanks for the caf, kid. I’ll be walking back to the Temple. Got some things to check up on.”

Anakin saluted him with two fingers, going back to his caf. 

He tried to glare the liquid into submission, but got no response. 

He hadn’t seen Obi-wan in a few months. He was offplanet, working on some insider case that required him to go undercover to aid in a small rebellion against a local warlord. Even though he had been in the company of his surrogate master for a while, he couldn’t help but miss the man. He couldn’t comm him, and before he left Obi-wan had to shut his side of the bond down, his shields almost impenetrable to the point where Anakin could barely tell if he was alive. 

It was difficult enough that he had been growing distant from Anakin, becoming more of a model Jedi than a model friend. He missed the man’s sarcastic remarks, missed the dramatic sigh and even more dramatic cape-shrugging-off that he would do before finally giving in to Anakin’s begs to spar. 

And aside from the occasional side-hug from Master Windu, he hadn’t gotten a proper hug in  _ years. _

Maybe it was because he was older now, but everybody needs a hug now and then. 

Sighing, he stood up, sending one last resentful look at his caf before tossing a few credits on the table. As he turned to leave, he spun back around and tried to drink the rest of the caf at the speed that Windu did. He stilled his features as his mouth burned, somewhat failing to keep a straight face, nodding at the Twi’lek waiter as he left. The man smiled back at him, offering a small wave. 

Anakin rushed out of the cafe, face pink.  _ The waiter was rather pretty, _ he thought to himself, jumping into his speeder. 

Shaking his head in a half-assed attempt to clear his thoughts, he flipped the switches to activate the craft, before zooming back to the Temple. 

The air was crisper as he went faster, the smell of oil and metal that marked the planet-sized city not being fast enough to catch up to him. It was moments like these he relished, being able to fly fast enough he could forget things he wanted to, all he had to think about was what he should avoid colliding with, and the route he was to take. 

The wind was cool on his face, which was still hot from his relevation that he had about the waiter. He hadn’t reacted to anyone like that in years, not since his knee-jerk infatuation with Padmé when he met her back on Tatooine. He was sure it was nothing. The Code prohibited attachments, not flings. And besides, he was too busy to be finding people  _ pretty. _ Least of all strangers. 

_ But the way the morning sun caught his obsidian skin, the small flash of his eyes-- _

Anakin almost crashed into a billboard, eyes widening at his own thoughts. 

Surely the waiter was new, he was  _ certain _ he would have remembered seeing him before. Anakin smiled to himself as he briefly entertained the idea of turning back and asking for his name. But no, that would have to wait. It’d give him something to look forwards to tomorrow, but for now, back to the Temple. He had a few Younglings to entertain. 

As he jumped out of the speeder, he was met with a tiny punch to his leg from a very furious fist. 

Looking down, he raised an eyebrow at the Youngling, one who had recently been brought to the Temple, a young Rodian named Ootar. If he was remembering correctly. 

“Hello, little one. Why the punches?” he said, trying to evoke a sense of calm superiority that he always felt from Obi-wan when he was acting childish. Well, more childish than normal.

“You late,” Ootar said, frowning. Anakin fought back a laugh, it was difficult for him to take the little one seriously, with the galaxy-like eyes peering up at him from behind squinting eyelids. 

“Am I?” Anakin said, touching his chin pensively, a gesture he had been trying to pick up from Master Windu in an attempts to seem older. 

“Yes,” Ootar stamped his foot to emphasise the word, “You to be here five minutes past.”

Anakin blinked. This was the longest sentence he had heard from the child, and in spite of himself, he was proud of the Rodian. 

“I am sorry, Ootar, shall we go inside?” The apology was sincere, and Ootar had seemed to believe so himself, if the extended hand was any indication. Anakin smiled as he allowed the Youngling to grab hold of his right forefinger, the tiny hand being unable to fully hold his larger one. It was endearing how determined the child was to maintain contact with him that he stretched to reach his thumb instead. As they made their way into the Temple, they passed Master Fisto, who was conversing lowly with Master Koon underneath a tree. Ootar waved at the Nautolan, who nodded in response, eyes warm, before he turned back to listen to the Kel Dor. 

The two made their way into the inner garden where Anakin used to spend time training with his fellow Youngling Clan. When they arrived, Anakin was swarmed by a small stampede of Younglings, all reaching up to him. 

Being around the kids made him happy. Not that he liked children, because if anyone were to ask, he  _ did not _ like children, but because seeing them made him happy that they were starting their lives off so much better than he had. They were free. They had friends. And alright, so yes they were cute, and yes they did make him happy as they jumped excitedly about him, chattering about their recent trainings, or about how one of them had managed to levitate a pebble this morning. 

“Woah! Alright, alright!” he laughed, “let me sit down, and you can tell me more about it.”

As he sat cross-legged, Ootar climbed into his lap, and Anakin’s arm acted as a shield for the shy three year old. The others, who were a few seasons older than him, ranging from four to five, sat around them, or bounced around with excitement as they each told the Padawan about their achievements since he had last seen them a week ago. 

He laughed as they detailed their antics, how one of them had almost set fire to the Grandmaster’s remaining hair when deflecting a training bolt. Anakin reacted with sympathy when he was shown a few scrapes they had accumulated on knees from tripping over their robes, and fought back the urge to smile as they marveled over his Learner’s braid. 

That was how Knight Kenobi found his apprentice an hour later, covered in Younglings in varying stages of wakefulness, laughing as he animatedly entertained them with stories from his adventures off world. Their favourites seemed to be his dramatic retelling of his excursion to Alderaan, where he had found himself in a nest of a very large birdlike creature, who had mistaken him for one of its young. 

“And the mother bird looked at me, and I could  _ tell  _ she was trying to figure out why I smelled funny! Then she came a little closer, and you would not  _ believe _ how large her beak was! It was almost as long as you are tall!” he poked at one of the standing Younglings, a small Tholothian with bright eyes, “and I think that’s when she decided she couldn’t eat me, so instead,  _ she threw me out of the nest! _ ” the children erupted into a fit of giggles, “and there I was! Falling down the side of some beautiful mountain, followed by a very angry bird!”

“I do believe it was more than just one upset bird, my Padawan,” Obi-wan made his presence known as he stepped from around the pillar he had been leaning against.

Anakin broke out into a face-splitting grin.

“Hello Master! How was your mission?”

Obi-wan found himself the focus of eight sets of very expectant eyes.

“Oh, it went well enough. Nowhere near as exciting as our trip to Alderaan, I assure you that.” Obi-wan smiled, though it was obvious to Anakin that he was exhausted.

“Well then, excuse me Younglings, I’ll see you tomorrow, perhaps,” Anakin said, standing up after the Rhodian Youngling scooted begrudgingly out of his lap. He was followed by a chorus of ‘farewell’ and ‘goodbye, padawan Anakin’ as he walked quickly to his master. 

“How was the mission, really?” Anakin said, falling into step with Obi-wan. He was just barely taller than the man now, so he could match his stride efficiently enough.

Obi-wan grimaced, biting back a small groan of pain as he held his arm to his ribs.

“Oh, you know. The usual.” he said evasively, the words coming from behind clenched teeth.

“That bad, huh?”

“Let’s just say that the fear monger is gone, and now there is a shaky attempt at a democracy in place planetwide.”

“But that’s great news! Isn’t that what you set out to do?” Anakin rushed, eyebrows knit in concern.

“Many of the civilians died in the uprisings. The war they raged against the tyrant was met with illegal instruments of war.” Obi-wan muttered tiredly. Anakin had to restrain his jaw from colliding with the floor.

“Like biologicals?” Obi-wan nodded.

“It wiped out their crops, making them more reliant on the system in place. It was a cheap, dirty tactic that could have gotten the system expelled from the Senate should they have failed to reclaim their planet.”

Anakin fell silent.

“I didn’t know that systems could be kicked out of the Senate,” he admitted quietly, the situation feeling a lot more serious than it had when he only knew that Obi-wan was going away again.

“They don’t do it often, but there have been a few instances. Rarely, actually.”

They walked on in silence for a few moments.

“Master, do you need to go to the Halls of Healing? I don’t need to sense it to tell you are in pain.” Anakin stared at Obi-wan’s protective grip of his torso, the way that every other step he seemed to favour one of his legs. His eyes carried dark bruises underneath, evidence of sleepless nights. 

“Oh, probably. Now I just want to rest after having some tea,” he sighed. Anakin shook his head, his master’s stubbornness was almost uncontested, almost because Anakin’s own stubbornness was known to rival Obi-wan’s during his early teenage years. He was growing out of it. A bit. 

“Master, please. You aren’t well,” he implored, “I can make you tea afterwards, just go for a check-in, at least?”

Obi-wan sighed heavily, wincing slightly as the pressure caused a twinge of pain to shoot up his side. 

“But bacta tastes terrible, young Padawan. Have you no sympathy for your old, ailing master?”

Anakin scoffed. 

“Master, you are barely six years older than I am. And you look like you lost a fight to a Rancor. Twice.”

Obi-wan tsked at him. 

“So disrespectful. What if Master Windu heard how you speak to me? Would he approve?”

“He most certainly would, Kenobi. You look kriffing terrible,” Mace Windu said, swinging around a column and startling Obi-wan, earning a smirk from Anakin, whom he had been mentoring in the art of Giving Obi-wan A Heart Attack via sneaking around in shadows.

“Mace, please, I’ve had enough excitement already for one rotation.”

The man huffed a laugh in lieu of responding, and wordlessly swung an arm around Obi-wan’s waist, allowing the younger man to lean on him as he and Anakin marched him off to the Healers.

“This is uncalled for,” Obi-wan protested, “I am perfectly alright --”

“--banthashit.” Mace interrupted. His point was proven in a matter of seconds as Obi-wan coughed, the sound wet and painful. 

Anakin noticed then that the inside of his mouth was stained red, and that his skin had taken on a sickly grey sheen.

“I’ll run ahead,” Anakin said hurriedly to Windu, who nodded, also having picked up on the extent of Obi-wan’s injuries being larger than he let on. 

Anakin waited anxiously outside of the healing wing as Obi-wan was being treated. His master had told him he didn’t need to stick around and wait for him, but he couldn’t bear the idea of leaving him when he was obviously in pain. 

So, he paced the room. Then he sat and tried to meditate. Then he paced some more. 

He was on his fifth meditation attempt when Vokara Che exited, and crossed the few paces to where he was sitting. She stood in front of him, and cleared her throat loudly when he did not seem to notice her presence. 

Anakin’s eyes snapped open, and he looked up into her blue face, anxiety written across his face. 

“How is he?”

“Exhausted. Now scoot, Padawan. He’ll be released tomorrow. And  _ only _ because we both know he won’t settle down for the  _ suggested _ four rotations we  _ both _ know he needs. So please, take it easy on him. He will undoubtedly try to return to normal far earlier than he should, so he’s essentially your patient as soon as he sprints out of here at first light tomorrow.”

Anakin sighed heavily in relief.

“Thank you, Master Che. I will do my best to make sure he stays put.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. He felt intensely uncomfortable under her level stare until she finally nodded at him, a clear dismissal, and returned to the Halls. He scurried off to his chambers after that, but couldn’t find sleep for hours. 

* * *

He tossed and turned in his fitful sleep. 

He saw glimpses of sand, of his mother colliding with the speeder. 

Of golden eyes watching him, a cold laugh echoing in his ears. 

He saw children he didn’t know on the ground, lightsabre marks decorating their bodies.

He wanted to throw up. He wanted to run away, to look away. He was stuck.

He saw the face of the Sith who had killed his mother, but he was more gaunt, his eyes wild, horns overgrown. 

He saw a hooded figure, a grey wrinkled hand reaching to him.

_ Join me. _

_ Never! _

His eyes snapped open.

His chest was covered in a sheen of sweat, his face pale. 

Anakin carded a hand through his hair, trying to make sense of what he had dreamt.

But just as he was remembering it, it slipped away. Only remaining was the sight of his mother’s last moments, and a chill in his heart. 

* * *

“Master Yoda, when should I be expecting the Jedi to take up the case?”

The hologram of the Jedi Grandmaster was projected on the table in front of the Chancellor, who had his hands folded in front of him, agitation clear in his body language.

“Soon, Chancellor, they will be. Healing from injuries, Knight Kenobi is. Some time, this will take, not to be certain of full recovery, in the meantimes, we are.” the green creature rasped, voice calm, juxtaposing the concern of the man behind the desk.

“Oh dear, my best wishes to the young Kenobi’s swift recovery. And what about the other Jedi? The presence of young Skywalker could help to put people at ease, he has a way with his charm,” he laughed softly, eyes crinkling in amusement, as if he was part of an inside joke with himself.

“Hmm. Not ready yet, is Skywalker. His master’s presence with him, he will require. Time, we need.”

The Chancellor nodded in understanding, hands steepled before him.

“I take your meaning, Master Jedi. I hope to hear from you soon.”

“Soon, you will, Chancellor Palpatine. Keep in touch, we will.”

The transmission ended. 

Swiveling his chair to face the wide window behind him, the old man stood, hands coming to rest behind his back. He sighed as he stared at the city’s setting sun. He wondered to himself if this really was the start of a war within the Republic. 

Time would tell if his thoughts proved to be true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i realllllllly should have been prepping for my exam in a few hours (tomorrow morning)  
> oops  
> yikes  
> well then.  
> hope you lovelies are doing well, i enjoy hearing from you  
> stay safe out there,  
> xoxo spiders


	6. All of the feelings I don't show

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> first steps on a mission, a rise in the Sith's plot, and a Human Disaster Child walk into a bar ...  
> kidding, but yeah.
> 
> song of the chapter:  
> Hopes Up - nothing,nowhere

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you again to @flowerqueen for your support :)

It was the first time he had dreamt in a while. And the first time in that while he could remember being so worried over it. 

Even more worried that he couldn't remember it.

Anakin inhaled shakily, threading his fingers through his hair, letting his hands drag down his face. He lay back down, staring at the ceiling, aware of the faint buzz of noise that the city surrounding the Temple made. The transports whirring through the night, the traffic of personal speeders catering to the nocturnal beings. Sleep eluded him.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Anakin sent a quick prayer to the force, so it would let him sleep. He got no response. Surprisingly. 

Resigned to a sleepless night, Anakin rolled over sideways, colliding with the carpeted floor as he landed with a soft _thud_ as he fell off the mat. He remained there, with his face to the ground, as he tried to come up with a reason to try to go back to sleep. 

His muscles groaned as he stood up, sore from his training the previous day. He let his feet take him our of his room on autopilot, and slipped on a robe before grabbing his lightsabre. 

He hadn’t thought of his mother’s death in a while. The last time he could distinctly remember being so affected by it was years ago, when he turned fifteen. Not that he knew what his origin day was, but he got an overwhelming sense of emptiness out of nowhere, and it lasted for almost a week. He was almost as old as his mom ever got to be. He was older than she was when she was sold to the Hutts, and should he be in her place now, he would have had to raise a child on his own. 

The thought terrified him. He was beyond a mess. 

The only times he thinks he knows what he’s doing are when he’s training, or flying. Other times, Anakin is constantly aware of every part of his body, and he feels like he is only loosely connected to it, like a program that a droid chooses to use only when convenient. It’s like how he feels now: barely connected to himself. Lost. 

The Temple is quiet at this time, the only others awake are the older Jedi who prefer to have their wake cycles during the night. They mostly keep to themselves, and no one comments on his wakefulness. 

He looks up. His feet had taken him to one of the smaller training rooms on one of the lower levels of the Temple. It had a window that dominated much of the far wall, allowing for an uninterrupted view of the Coruscant skyline, the city glimmering in the inky black sky. The pollution was awful, but the city lights made up for the lack of stars.

He hadn’t seen those in a while, either, come to think of it.

Anakin checked the timepiece by the wall. Nearing 0340. He figured he might as well run through some katas he had missed his review of the previous day due to the excitement of his master’s return, and the cafe incident. As he jumped in to the formations, he let his mind wander some more. 

Anakin was aware he was predisposed to forming attachments. It probably had something to do with him coming to the Temple so late, and for turning down the offer of meditation lessons that could help him forget his prior life. It was very tempting at times, but although he had gone through a lot, those experiences led him to where he was now. Who he is now. 

Even if the change was something small, like remembering to put his shoe on all the way that one day, rather than just slipping it on and running off to play with his friends; he didn’t know if changing one tiny thing would screw up whatever he had going for him now. Or slightly bigger changes: not asking his mom to come with him that day. It might have saved her, but then where would he be? He would never stop thinking about her. He misses her, so much, but he worried what his attachment issues would be like should he have always wondered what she was up to, how she was in that world that was determined to eat the innocent alive. 

He loved his mother. He missed her smiles, as weary as they were. He missed the sound of her laugh, and her smell, beneath the grime of the city, was fading from his memory. It hurt, but he couldn’t give up just to see her again. 

He has his people now: his father-type figure in Master Windu -- though he wouldn’t tell the man that -- and people he can look out for himself, like Ootar, and the other younger Jedi around the Temple. He has a purpose, he doesn’t serve a system he has no say in. He works for a cause he believes in, for peace, for justice. 

He gets to see _so_ many new places. Not quite all of the stars and planets yet, but he had been to a dozen or so. He knows his mother would be proud of him. He knows she would want him to continue to live, even if she wasn’t there physically to watch him grow up.

He does miss her hugs. 

Anakin winced as he came out of another formation, realising a bit too late that he didn’t stretch properly before attempting some maneuvers. So, he sat down where he was and steadied his breathing as he reached out to wrap his hands around his feet, legs straight in front of him.

* * *

Anakin jogged to catch up to Master Windu, the man having stopped by an archway when he noticed the Padawan had changed course from the Archives to where he was standing.

“Hello Skywalker. What brings you up this early?”

Anakin caught his breath, the exertion of his early-morning activities tainting his face a reddish hue, clouding the distinction between hair and face in the light.

“I’ve been up. Where are you off to, Master?”

Windu raised an eyebrow in slight disbelief. “Now that’s something I thought I wouldn’t hear. I was going to meet Senator Organa about our mission. Kenobi will be joining us at a later phase, so I was thinking you and I could get a headstart on it.”

“You knew I was up?”

“How long have I known you?” Windu laughed, accusatorily.

“Nine years,” Anakin mumbled, “and you spend an -- “

“-- inordinate amount of time around you already. We’ve been over this,” the man smirked down at the Padawan. 

“Also, you walk loudly. It’s embarrassing.”

Anakin scoffed indignantly.

“I am not!”

Further protest was quelled with another raised eyebrow on Mace’s behalf.

“It’s why you can’t sneak up on me,” Windu stage-whispered. 

The Jedi parked in the lot outside of Organa’s apartments on Coruscant. 

The building was impressive: one of the few where the space was high enough that the city seemed almost quiet, and where the air seemed almost clean. Not to mention, the high ceilings within the man’s apartment themselves quietly boasted of the man’s importance to the Senate. 

Anakin couldn’t help but marvel at the decor, the apartment seemed almost luxuriously modest. The thick navy blue rug muffled even _his_ ‘loud footsteps’ -- thank you _very much,_ Master Windu -- and the colour scheme of the place was so reminiscent of Alderaan it made Anakin smile. Also, the plethora of small potted flora from Alderaan scattered about on surfaces, tilted just-so to make the room glow with life, made the very recycled air in the rooms smell like the clean air on the planet. 

Anakin settled that should he, for any reason whatsoever, find himself in need of a room outside of the Jedi Temple, he would ask Senator Organa for a small box to sleep in. He didn’t even need a bed to be satisfied here. The atmosphere was so very peaceful, heavily contrasting the string of murders that brought the Jedi to the man this day.

“--and you must be Knight Skywalker,” the senator said, reaching a hand out to Anakin.

“It is a pleasure, Senator Organa,” Anakin replied, nodding to the man, who smiled radiantly at the Jedi.

“Oh please, no need for the formalities here. Call me Bail. I cannot thank you enough for volunteering your time, this has been a most troublesome matter indeed.”

Mace Windu nodded gravely, rubbing his chin in thought. The senator continued.

“Since the crisis over Naboo, there have been a few splinters within the Senate over the idea of hostilities. Many, like myself and the Nabooian representatives, want to abstain from conflict unless absolutely necessary. But Gunray and his Trade Federation are making things difficult, and stirring up whatever petty scrabbles they can to cause arguments. This is in no way a new thing, but the murders of senators who had committed themselves to trying to discuss the issues without outside influences or organisations has led to deep mistrust, and a slew of death threats to both sides.”

The Jedi shared a meaningful look.

“And normally, this wouldn’t be a matter for the Jedi to intervene, but many of the conflicts are from groups that do not wish to see Jedi involvement in senate matters. Especially following the leak of the Sith appearance in the wake of the Queen’s escape from Naboo after the Trade Federation sought to impose a blockade. They believe the Jedi are favouring systems over others, and when they _do_ speak up, they end up dead.”

“So, the Trade Federation seems to be the common denominator here?” Anakin said slowly, as if sounding out the idea as he was speaking. 

“That does, unfortunately, seem to be the case.”

“Where do we come in, then?” Windu interjected, leaning forwards to gain the attention of the somewhat distracted senator.

“We need to pass a resolution in a week’s time. The struggle is that although many have expressed interest in voting on it, and essentially criminalising armed blockades, those who have reason to vote and approve it have been killed, with three senators alone in the past week.”

“Three senators in a week? And the police haven’t been notified?” Anakin spluttered, not believing what he was hearing.

“Well,” Bail started, “they have, you see. But, that’s three of thousands of senators. And the eight from earlier this month were old enough so that their deaths didn’t come as an outright shock, but this time, the deaths have been of relatively young senators, and no details as to their causes of death have been released to the senate, nor to the public.”

“This is troubling,” Mace agreed, chin resting on his fist, “do you have any idea who could be next?”

“Ah, about that,” the man shifted uncomfortably, “the threats issued seem to indicate Senators Bonteri, Ono, and, well, me.”

* * *

_“Bodyguard duty?_ You can’t be serious!”

Windu raised an eyebrow at his outburst. 

“Would you rather be stuck doing research at the Temple?”

“No,” Anakin grumbled.

“Good, now go get changed.”

“Do I really have to wear the uniform, Master? It looks ridiculous!”

“Do I really have to put up with your whiny banthashit? No, but I do because it is for the greater good. Get in the uniform, Anakin, I won’t say it again. And stop looking at me like that,” Anakin batted his eyelashes, pouting deeper, “it won’t help you.” 

Anakin was grumbling the whole time he was changing. The military-grade collar made his shoulders almost twice as wide, and the visor obscured his face to the point where he wondered how he could actually _see_ through it. 

He decided that Alderaanian fashion was something he wouldn’t be participating in voluntarily.

“Skywalker! You look dashing, young Jedi.” Bail cheered from the couch when Anakin walked out from behind the curtain.

“Thank you sir, but I really don’t see the practicality --”

“You need to look intentional, Anakin,” Mace added from the side chair, “it won’t be easy to be undercover if Senator Organa was waltzing around with an armed Jedi guard, would it?”

Anakin nodded.

“Can I at least take the helmet off?”

“Nope,” Mace grinned, “nice try.”

Bail continued to smile so brightly it seemed he was trying to give Coruscant’s sun a run for its money. 

“Shall we then, Kain?” the Senator used the false name for Anakin, trying to get the boy used to it before they got into the mission in earnest.

“No time like the present,” Anakin sighed. It was going to be a _long_ day.

* * *

“How are your preparations coming along, Instigator?”

“They are coming along well, my Lord. Is there anything else specific you need from me?”

The hooded man sat back in his chair, thinking. The person across from him could barely make out his golden eyes boring into them, his face cloaked in shadow, back to a window, so the effect was doubled.

“The Jedi has one more assignment to finish before the wheels on this start turning, you will know the signal when it is given. Aside from this, you will need to go as far as possible to secure his attention. Are you prepared to do this?”

The person across from him squirmed in their seat slightly. They knew the job payed handsomely, and that the long-term payoff was even better than money, but they still hesitated. Could they really worm their way into the heart of a practical stranger?

As the gaze of the hooded man remained on them, silently waiting for their answer, the Instigator knew they wouldn’t be able to back out now, even if they wanted to.

“Yes, my Lord. I will succeed at all costs.”

The hooded man laughed, a drawn-out sound that seemed to suck the air out of the room, and made the person’s skin crawl.

“Good… good… report back to me in three rotations, collect information in the meantime. There will be no loose ends nor leads to our plot.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

The Sith dismissed them with a wave of his hand. 

It wasn’t frequently that he met people in the flesh, but for this one, it was critical. Normally, he would commune with his henchmen through holograms, but this one… required more finesse. With forgoing the hologram, the Sith was able to ensure his Instigator knew the seriousness of the situation, and the extent of his resolve. And with the meeting in person, he had a level of immediate power over the Instigator; they knew immediately that he would not hesitate to kill them should they try to report the contact. 

Not that the sentiment needed to be said aloud. 

He opened a hologram, his new apprentice showing up on the display.

“Yes, my Lord?”

“Call off the attacks on the Senate, we need more time.”

“So soon, my Master? We have only just secured the attentions of the Jedi Council, it is not likely they would --”

“Call. Off. The attacks. I will not repeat myself.”

“But --”

_“Do it.”_

The man bowed, and the transmission ended. 

The Sith made his way to the elevator, and ascended to the upper levels of Coruscant. 

* * *

At the end of his shift as Organa’s bodyguard, Anakin raced back to the Temple, desperate to change back into his robes. 

Master Windu would take over from where Anakin left off, and had donned his own version of the Alderaanian guard outfit, to Anakin’s amusement. But even then. Anakin was miffed that the Jedi Master managed to make even the over-the-top armour look elegant and dignified. He himself had felt like a child wearing a parent’s clothing. Out of place, and as tall as he was now, he felt like he was drowning in the heavy robe. 

They had agreed that to avoid suspicion, they should take time away from the mission and make appearances as themselves elsewhere. This was a precaution _only_ because of the strange cult-following the Jedi had accumulated due to their mysterious status and reserved nature. Anakin could still remember that on one occasion, Ki-Adi-Mundi had been seen in public, eating at a restaurant, and the holonet lost its mind, headlines such as _“breaking!_ Jedi engages in nourishment rituals” had circulated for _weeks_ to the point where the Jedi Council members themselves had teased him about it. Since then, they had made a collective effort to avoid such attentions by not confining themselves to the Temple at all times. 

When Anakin was situated back in his own robes, he set out to visit the cafe he and Master Windu had met up at prior to starting their mission. 

Jumping in one of the speeders, he took the long way to the cafe, savouring the fresh air and excuse to fly around. The sky over Coruscant was a shade of a rich yellow-orange, causing everything to be washed in a rosy light. It reminded him a bit of Tatooine, how the lower sun always set in a shade of orange, casting a similar light over the desert planet. He didn’t mind the sand much then, the world seeming to stretch on infinitely, almost like a dreamscape, everything seeming… softer. 

He turned sharply to avoid a reckless speeder, who had veered into the wrong lane and almost crashed head-on into Anakin. A twinge of annoyance shot through him, but he dismissed it quickly, letting his feelings diffuse into the force, which carried them away, leaving calm in its wake. 

He did, however, almost miss the cafe twice. The second time only because he had forgotten that it shared a parking area with a few other restaurants. As he jumped out, he saw through the glass that the waiter from the previous day was there again, and that the cafe was relatively empty. His heart skipped a beat when he entered, as the attractive waiter waived at him, seeming to recognise him.

Anakin sat down in a booth towards the back, where he could see the whole room. The window took up the entire side of the room, and he contented himself with looking out over the city. 

A server droid came up to him and took his order, and while a bit disappointed it wasn’t the Twi’lek, he ordered the first thing he saw on the drinks menu. The droid complimented his choice, and wheeled away. 

Anakin became lost in thought as he gazed out at the skyline, admiring the bronze metal buildings and the way the light complimented the materials. He nearly jumped out of his skin when his caf was set down gently in front of him. He looked up to thank the droid, only to lose his words when he met eyes with the Twi’lek.

“Are you waiting for someone?” he asked, voice strong and pleasant.

“Am I uh… oh! No. No, I’m here by myself.” Anakin stumbled, somehow unable to figure out where his ability to speak coherently went.

“Oh,” the Twi’lek smiled shyly, “sorry, it’s just that not many people come here by themselves, excuse me.”

“No! Please,” Anakin scrambled, “You’re fine, thank you.” he smiled self-consciously. 

“In that case,” the waiter ventured, voice slightly higher, shyer, “is this seat taken?”

Anakin squinted, wordlessly repeating the request before it dawned on him.

“Force! Sorry, I don’t know why I can’t think, please,” Anakin gestured to the seat opposite him, cheeks bright pink, the blush dulled by the light from outside the cafe.

“Thank you,” the Twi’lek smiled, sliding into the seat. “My break just started, I’ve been on my feet all day.”

“I bet,” Anakin said, face sympathetic. He, too, had been standing most of the day, but he wasn’t going to divulge that. “I’m Anakin, by the way.”

Anakin extended his hand across the table. 

“I’m Ryth,” the Twi’lek said, shaking the proffered hand.

“Sorry… Riff?”

Ryth laughed, his face dominated by his smile, eyes sparkling. “Ryth. Like riff, but with a ‘th’ sound instead.”

“Oh,” Anakin went red, rubbing the back of his neck. He realised he had been clinging to the man’s hand since he shook it, and released it hastily, busying himself with straightening his robes. 

“It’s alright, most people have difficulties with it. It’s even worse considering that I’m Ryth from Ryloth,” he laughed.

“That’s a sentence,” Anakin smiled, hiding behind his caf. “Do many people here know your name? If that makes sense, I mean, uh --”

“Only a few,” Ryth’s eyes smiled as he sipped at his own caf. 

“That’s nice,” Anakin said, before internally slapping himself. He took another sip of his caf. 

“You don’t talk to many non-Jedi do you, Anakin?” Ryth teased, sipping at his caf while giving Anakin a meaningful look.

“How did you… oh. The robes.”

“Actually, the braid.”

“You would be very correct in your assumption, then, my social skills are… lacking.” Anakin admitted, glancing down to the table, aware that he was borderline staring at the man across from him.

“Well, a little practice never hurt anyone,” the Twi’lek said knowingly, smirking.

Anakin smiled up at him, gratefully. 

“Your eyes are, _really_ blue,” Anakin said, slightly out of focus, before his eyes went wide and he snapped his gaze away from him again. Ryth grinned down at the table.

“As are yours, Anakin.”

_I like how you say my name._

Anakin made it back to the Temple just before curfew, borderline skipping to his room. He had a bubbly feeling in his chest, and he felt much lighter than he had earlier. When he got back inside his quarters, he was greeted with the sight of his master, sitting at the small table, sipping at his tea.

“You seem to be in high spirits,” Obi-wan commented, amused.

“Busy day,” Anakin answered cheerily.

“I bet. I heard you did well on your assignment today.”

“Really? I thought it was a bit slower than expected, though I did see a few shifty looking people around the Senate.”

“You’re going to have to be more specific, my Padawan. They’re Senators, the ‘shifty’ part comes with the job.” Obi-wan shook with silent laughter, wincing as he touched a sore rib.

  
“How are your injuries, Obi-wan?”

Anakin came around to where the older man was sitting, concern evident on his face. His entire demeanor changed, the previous elation melting away to reveal the agitation he had been suppressing. 

“Oh, I’ve had worse,” he said evasively, “just a few broken ribs, but they’re almost healed. Just, sore, is all.”

“Your ribs were _broken?_ Why didn’t you say so! Healer Che didn’t mention that you broke your ribs, how long were you walking around with them like that?” Anakin spluttered.

“Anakin. I’m not dead. I’m fine,” Obi-wan said sternly, but his heart wasn’t in his words. It had hurt, quite a bit, and didn’t feel comfortable now, but he was just tired. That’s all.

“Master, please,” Anakin begged, “how can I help?”

Obi-wan sighed, looking up to the ceiling for guidance. 

“You can stop fussing, you know.”

“Yeah, well, I fuss because _you_ don’t have any sense of self-worth when you’re out! You don’t _think!”_

Anakin cut off, tears threatening to fall. He turned his back, just in case. Obi-wan didn’t need to see him fall apart like some child. 

I lost mom, we lost Qui-Gon. I’m terrified of losing anyone else, he thought, face splotchy. 

_I can’t lose you._

Obi-wan stood, careful to not set his Padawan off. As the years had passed, Anakin had claimed to have come to terms with the loss of his mother, and pseudo-father that had been Qui-Gon, but he was quick to anger. It wasn’t easy to deal with, especially because everyone else in the Temple, Obi-wan included, were adept at channeling their feelings of anger or unbalance away. Anakin wasn’t good at it. He tried, Obi-wan knew, but he just felt things deeper.

“I am sorry, Anakin.” Obi-wan said quietly, not wanting to overstep. 

“Please, don’t,” Anakin said, voice breaking with badly-suppressed emotions.

_Don’t apologise for something we both know you’ll keep doing._

Obi-wan bit the inside of his cheek. It was obvious the boy needed physical comfort, but it had been a while since it was necessarily appropriate for Obi-wan to be hugging him all of the time. Force, he couldn’t remember the last time Qui-Gon had hugged him. 

And growing up where Anakin used to get comfort from his mother, and now in the Temple where he rarely did… 

Obi-wan shook his head, before stepping closer to Anakin, and wrapping his arms around his distraught Padawan. Anakin froze momentarily, before spinning around in Obi-wan’s arms and throwing his arms around his neck, pressing his face into the man’s shoulder as the tears came in earnest now. 

_Please stop being stupid. Please stop pretending it’s not suicide when you go out on missions when you_ know _that it’s gonna end badly. It’s selfish. But please. I can’t, I don’t want you to leave._

Obi-wan squeezed Anakin a little tighter, he didn’t care that it made his ribs ache. The pain made him recognise the present moment, and made him think that he _should_ be trying to actively stay alive. 

“No, Anakin. I have been the selfish one. I had not thought of the -- I had not been considering the emotional burden it places on you.”

The younger man clenched his jaw, trying to still the flow of tears. Crying made him feel stupid, it made him feel vulnerable, and childish. 

Moments like this made him feel like a small boy, and make Obi-wan seem much, much older than him. It made him feel distant, more distant, from his master. Like he was losing him. 

He needed to be better at keeping himself in check. 

Although every inch of him refused to leave the embrace, the comforting smell of Obi-wan’s cloak made him dizzy. He didn’t want to leave. 

But he did. 

Anakin slowly pried himself away from Obi-wan, eyes to the floor as he stepped back, arms circling his midsection. 

Obi-wan opened his mouth to say something, but the very idea of what he was to say died on his lips. It hurt him physically to see the obvious pain Anakin was in, but he respected the silent request for space. 

“Do you want to talk about the mission?”

Anakin sniffed. 

“Sure, that’d… that’d be nice.”

Obi-wan smiled, but it didn’t reach his worried eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thoughts ??? (insert suggestive eyebrows emoji here)  
> i hope you all are doing well.  
> got hit with another bout of depression and lack of motivation myself, but i'm working through it. writing helps, and the comments really do make me happy.
> 
> stay safe kiddos  
> x spiders


	7. As the friendship goes, resentment grows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anakin finishes a suspicious mission, then deals with the emotional fallout of a bad encounter, obi-wan there to help him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: someone gets pretty handsy, and while it's not too much, i know what its like, so please be careful
> 
> song: Bad Blood - Bastille (Live Piano Version)

At 0600 nearly a week later, Anakin reported to Bail Organa’s apartment.

The man welcomed him with a dashing smile, and was excited about something.

“Kain! It is good to see you,” the Senator’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “Today’s the big day!”

“The bill is proposed today?” Anakin inquired, eyes wide.

“Yes, I will be needed in the Senate, so you’ll be in the pod with me. Masters Windu and Kenobi will guard Senators Bonteri and Ono respectively. There haven’t been any more attacks since your assignment to me, so I will take it as an opportunity to vote the bill through.”

Anakin nodded, still trying to process the information being thrown at him.

“But, the assignment has barely started?” Anakin ventured, confusion evident.

“Yes, it was rather unusual, but I haven’t received any more threats since eight rotations ago, and really, the sooner the better.” Anakin frowned, feeling like he missed something crucial to his understanding.

“Have Masters Windu and Obi-- Kenobi, have they consented to this? I respect you, Bail, but it would make me much more comfortable if I had their approval.”

Bail nodded, approving of the dedication of the Padawan to his Master. 

“They have, and will be stationed near where we will be when not on the floor. It would mean much to me if you were willing to remain in the pod with me when I am giving my speech, would you be amenable to this?”

Anakin nodded slowly, “It would be an honour, Senator.”

Bail smiled up at the boy from where he was seated.

Anakin sat at the back of the pod while Bail stood and delivered his speech to the Senate Assembly. 

He was beginning to see the appeal of the visor: it allowed him to look around the vision field where he wanted to focus, while the helmet helped him to extend his senses behind and around him. 

For the most part, it was difficult to field through so many force-null individuals, as many were schooling their faces and body language but unknowingly projecting their thoughts loudly. There were mixed reactions, of what he could tell. Most seemed to be sympathetic to the invasion of Naboo, and the representatives of her and her sister systems, such as Alderaan. But, what dominated the emotional field in the room was the tense undercurrent of remorse and speculation, the confliction of Bail’s excellently delivered speech to support the bill with the senators who had already made up their minds, and saw his effort as doomed. 

Anakin let his eyes roam over the pods currently docked. The attention was on the holograms on their dashboards, save for a few who had decided to stalk the circling Alderaanian pod with their eyes from afar. 

“--and that, my fellow Senators, is why I  _ beseech _ you to please, vote for the ratification of Senate Resolution AB-1. For the memory of those lost during the Invasion of Naboo, for the future lives that could be protected against such an immoral act, I leave it to you.”

The Senator bowed, and the pod retreated back to its docking station amidst applause. Bail looked weary as he sat down. 

“Are you alright, Senator?” Anakin asked, voice just audible over the commotion. 

“I worry over the fate of the bill,” the man admitted, “I have done what I could, but the intimidation tactics have succeeded in scaring many into opposing the bill, feeling that violent intervention is needed to preserve peace.” he sat back, sighing heavily, hand to his temple.

“The proposal will now be put to a vote,” the Chancellor’s voice echoed from thousands of speakers, ushering in a pregnant silence.

Bail leaned forwards, clicking the left button on his console. The button flashed green, and then he hit another circular button above the two, before a panel slid over the two buttons, preventing alterations to his vote. 

After barely a minute, the Chancellor’s advisor banged his staff against the metal pod, calling for order.

“The results are in,” Anakin held his breath as the Chancellor spoke, more out of concern for Bail than the result.

“The Senate has moved to deny the proposed Senate Resolution AB-1.”

Bail put his head in his hands, sighing heavily. The man seemed to shrink from his normally grounding confidence, looking almost frail.

“You did what you could,” Anakin said, putting a hand on Bail’s shoulder. 

The man sat up, patting Anakin’s hand. “Thank you,” he said, voice stronger.

As they stood to leave, all power in the chamber was cut, leaving only the emergency lights from the pods. 

Anakin ignited his lightsabre as some of the senators screamed, and the sound of someone opening fire on the assembly came from a higher level. Anakin whipped his head around, following the source of the red plasma bolts to a single person three rows above his current level. Mace Windu shouted, and Anakin saw that he was getting the Alderaanian senator to safety, purple blade ignited, and deflecting as few bolts as he could. At first, Anakin was worried as to why Windu seemed to be restraining himself to only blocking a few, but then he realised that after deflecting, the bolts had a higher chance of hitting more people. 

This couldn’t be solved in the chamber.

Anakin sent a message through the force to Master Windu, letting him know he would be heading after the shooter directly. 

Using the force to aid his motions, he jumped to a pod a row up, and ran across them, leaping from one to the next until he jumped a few more, almost level with the aggressor. The perpetrator seemed to realise someone was on to them, and ran from the chamber, shooting the door controls to disable them from opening. 

Anakin landed in the final pod, careful not to step on the slain Rhodian as he used his lightsabre to carve through the side of one of the doors, kicking it down when the side that held it in place had been cut loose. As Anakin darted through the entryway, he worried he had lost the shooter, but a commotion down the hallway to his left, and the sound of a blaster firing, let him know the perpetrator was still inside. 

Deactivating his sabre to allow for more mobility within the crowd, Anakin sprinted down the hallway, shouting for those in his path to move, and jumping over a few that didn’t seem to hear him. 

Noticing that the person had run through to the main lobby, Anakin vaulted over the railing, landing harder than he would have wanted to, before he rolled to his feet and used the force to trip the Neimoidian, summoning the blaster and throwing it to the side. 

He leveled his sabre at the person’s throat, staring them down. 

They crouched backwards, almost as if they were going to try to scramble back and grab the discarded blaster.

“Don’t be stupid,” Anakin warned, eyes narrowing.

The Neimoidian spat as his feet, red eyes squinting in anger. 

He was aware of the crowd of onlookers accumulating around him. They kept a healthy distance, but he was concerned the Neimoidian would use that as an opportunity to flee and disappear in the crowd. He stepped closer, keeping the lightsabre between him and the man on the floor. 

“We’ve got this from here,” said a voice from behind him. Anakin glanced over his shoulders at the officers, who had their blasters trained at the attacker, set to stun. 

As Mace Windu approached him at a jog, Anakin relented, nodding to the officers after Windu had given him a smile to assure him it was alright to do so. 

“Well done, Skywalker. You saved many people today,” Bail Organa said, approaching the two Jedi, eyeing the man being cuffed and escorted from the premises. 

“I couldn’t save the senator whose pod he was shooting from, though,” Anakin added, adrenaline fading. Windu put his hand on Anakin’s shoulder, smiling sadly at him.

“I know, kid, but you did what you could.”

Anakin returned the look, nodding, and removed his visor, wiping sweat from his brow.

“The Chancellor wants to speak with you,” Windu added, tone serious, eyes lacking the previous warmth.

“Why? All I did was chase him down, it was you and my Master who aided Senator Organa in orchestrating the capture.” Anakin replied, bewildered. 

Windu spread his hands in a placating gesture. 

“He’s in his chambers now, Bail has offered to show you the way. After that, you’re free for the evening.”

Anakin nodded, trying to wipe the worry from his face as he followed Bail into a lift.

He couldn’t see Obi-wan, but he hoped that he was alright.

He wouldn’t have known if he wasn’t, Obi-wan didn’t lower his shields since he had come back from his away mission.

* * *

“Jedi Skywalker,” the Chancellor said, old face lit up with an overly-genuine smile, “It is an honour to speak with you. I would like to thank you for your heroics today in the Senate Assembly. You have saved,” he inhaled, “many lives today.”

Anakin shifted uncomfortably from where he stood before the Chancellor’s desk.

“Thank you, Chancellor. But I think you will find that it was actually Masters Windu and Kenobi who saved the senators, all I did was apprehend the shooter.”

“Ah, yes, but you were the one to stop the shooting, were you not?”

“Well, yes, but --”

“-- you have served your Republic well, young Knight. The Jedi Council is undoubtedly very proud of you.”

“If you will excuse me, sir,” Anakin looked at the man’s eyebrow to avoid direct eye contact, “I am a Padawan learner, not a Jedi Knight.”

The old man looked surprised. 

“Only a Padawan, eh?” he stood, rounding the desk.

“Yes, yes sir.” Anakin looked back down, willing himself not to fidget with the borderline-comical Alderaanian cape and breastplate. He tried not to flinch when the man got closer to him, standing less than a metre away now.

“Well, surely they would look on your achievements today and promote you immediately,” the Chancellor gestured to the sitting area, lightly taking Anakin’s elbow to guide him over.

“No, sir, I am not ready to be Knighted. There’s an entire process,” they sat down, the Chancellor to Anakin’s left. “And, I still have a few more years of learning to do before I even  _ consider _ the Trials.”

“That is a pity.” Anakin internally shuddered. “They should celebrate!”

The Chancellor lay a hand on Anakin’s knee, prompting Anakin to snap his head up, meeting the man’s eyes finally. He felt like he couldn’t breathe, like he was trapped. 

Which was absurd, because he was stronger than the man, and they were alone. He could fight him if necessary. But the hand on his leg blocked easy access to his lightsabre. And he was frozen in place, not knowing how to react.

The Chancellor smiled at him again, the expression not meeting his eyes, which took in Anakin like a predator surveys its prey. 

“Tell me, Anakin -- may I call you Anakin? -- have you ever considered working at the Senate full-time? I could use a new guard of your… caliber.”

Anakin shifted, pulling his knee away from the man’s hand, which had begun to lightly creep around.

“I am… honoured, Chancellor, but I am, uh, I’m dedicated to my trainings. As a Jedi.” Anakin swallowed harshly. He felt dizzy, and as if all of the blood had left his face. 

“Hmm,” the Chancellor replied, the sound setting Anakin’s nerves on edge. The man scooted closer, leaning in to Anakin’s ear.

“I could pull a few stings,” he purred, “I could make you a Jedi Knight within the week, Anakin.” The hand that had been creeping about Anakin’s leg made its way to his shoulder, rubbing into it roughly.

“You smell nice, has anyone told you?” the old man whispered.

“Just say the word, and the position is yours.” Anakin’s eyes squeezed shut as he felt the man’s breath on his neck. His pulse skyrocketed in alarm, but his body refused to move. It was like he was in a nightmare, but everything was too real, too much, too--

The Chancellor’s nose traced the cusp of Anakin’s ear.

It was then that Anakin’s communicator chimed.

He nearly wept with relief as he regained control of himself, snapped out of his trance-like terror. 

“If you would excuse me, Chancellor.”

Anakin didn’t wait for a response as he stood and quickly exited the room, doors hissing open before sliding shut behind him. 

The Chancellor remained where he was before the young man had gotten up. He stared at the door, considering. Touching his tongue to his top lip, he smirked to himself, before standing slowly. 

Pulling his robes back into place, he walked back around the desk, and buzzed in his next meeting.

* * *

Anakin felt like he didn’t breathe until he made it back to the Temple. He couldn’t think properly. He couldn’t process what had just happened. He felt disgusting. 

He had wanted to go to the cafe after his shift, but he couldn’t bear being around other people right now. Ryth was a lovely man, but Anakin couldn’t face him. Let alone either Mace or Obi-wan. It’s like they could look at him, and they’d  _ know. _ They’d think he was disgusting, cowardly, for letting himself be treated like that. He nearly choked on a sob just thinking about the disappointed look on his Master’s face. 

When he made it back to his rooms, he locked himself in the refresher and sunk to his knees, breathing shallowly, eyes fixed on the durasteel tile patterned floor. He held his hand to his mouth to muffle the sob that was wrenched out of his chest. His vision swam. 

He held his hand over his mouth in a vice-like grip until his breathing leveled out, but he still felt lightheaded. He dragged himself over to the shower with his free hand and slapped the water button. 

Cold water rained down on him, drenching his borrowed clothes. It  _ pinged  _ off of the metal breastplate, and soaked his cape. He shivered, wrapping his arm around his knees, which were now drawn tightly to his chest in a mock-foetal position. His eyes remained wide open despite the torrent of tears that mixed with the water as it trickled down the drain.

* * *

Obi-wan didn’t see Anakin after he was summoned back to the Temple. Mace mentioned the Chancellor had needed to speak to him.

Both men were concerned about that, they knew that Anakin didn’t feel comfortable around the man, but they weren’t able to do anything to protect Anakin from having to speak to the man. 

At least Bail was to go with him. 

It had been a few hours since then, and still no sign of Anakin. 

Obi-wan rubbed his chin, neatly-trimmed beard hiding the youthful curvature of his face. He checked the timepiece. Nearly 1900. Anakin would usually be back by now, harassing Obi-wan into going into one of the diners with him out in the city. He frowned. Anakin hadn’t answered his communicator when he had attempted to contact him earlier.

Something was definitely not right. 

Obi-wan rose from his table in the Archives, and put away the holocron he was studying. Anakin was probably in their rooms. Maybe he had just gotten carried away on one of his tinkering projects. 

Please just let it be that, he thought.

As he entered the lift, he felt a cold in the force. It seemed to get stronger, almost tangible, the closer he got to his and Anakin’s shared residence. He quickened his pace, then jogged, to their door. He felt fear biting at his stomach. 

Once he was in the main shared room, he glanced around. No sign of him. 

Then he went to Anakin’s side, and checked his sleeping quarters. Nothing. 

He stopped his frantic pacing and breathed out. It was then he heard the refresher going. Obi-wan heaved a sigh of relief, the feeling flowing straight out of his heart and warming his veins. 

“Anakin?” he called, knocking on the door. 

Silence.

“Anakin?” he tried again, a little louder, ear pressed to the door. He felt like he was trespassing, but his worry was beginning to overtake him again.

“Anakin? Are you in there?” 

Nothing.

Obi-wan reached into the force, and he could feel Anakin’s force signature behind the door, but it was faint. Very faint. 

“Anakin?” he tried the door. It was locked from the inside. 

“Anakin? Are you alright?”

Anakin seemed to hear him, his force signature hummed at Obi-wan.

“Forgive me,” he whispered, overriding the lock.

He opened the door, and his heart plummeted.

“Oh, Anakin,” he breathed.

His apprentice was soaked, the room chilled from the near-icy water that had been running for what seemed like a very long time. Anakin was curled into a ball, shivering, in the corner of the ‘fresher. He was staring blankly at the floor. 

The Alderaanian clothing made him look small, the mountain green of the cape now impossibly dark, the shining breastplate casting the light from the main room up on his face, making him look sickly. 

Obi-wan vaguely registered that Anakin had been sitting in the dark like this.

He leaned over the young man, shutting the water off. The room seemed to drown in the silence that followed. Anakin didn’t react, didn’t show that he was aware the water had been shut off. 

“Anakin?” Obi-wan whispered, standing over him, arm still outstretched near the water control panel.

Anakin shivered harder. 

Obi-wan lowered himself to a crouch, eyebrows knit in concern, face pinched with it.

He reached out to Anakin, who remained the same.

“Anakin? Can you answer me?”

Nothing but shivers from the man.

When Obi-wan touched him lightly on the elbow, Anakin flinched. Obi-wan jerked his hand back as if burned, panicked that he had done something to further upset his apprentice. 

Anakin shuddered harder, knuckles white as he grabbed his own shoulders. His eyes were red, face impossibly pale. 

Obi-wan slowly lowered his shields, sending a tendril of worried curiosity and compassion to the wreck of a man in front of him.

Anakin sobbed. 

“Anakin, what has happened?”

His apprentice shook his head, shoving it into his knotted arms. 

_ Anakin, let me in. Please, I want to help. _

There was no response, outward or otherwise. 

Obi-wan rocked back so he was sitting on his heels, lost at what to do. 

“Anakin, can I touch you?”

The younger man slowly turned his head to face Obi-wan, and when their eyes met, Obi-wan felt part of his heart shattered at the hauntingly vacant expression in Anakin’s eyes.

Obi-wan held up his palms, as if Anakin were a scared animal. Moving slowly, he grabbed a towel from behind him, showing it to Anakin before leaning towards him, settling it over his shoulders. Anakin didn’t look away from him the entire time, but Obi-wan tried to only look at what he was doing, careful to not touch Anakin directly.

“We should get you changed, you’re already at risk of getting sick. Does that sound like something you can do on your own, or do you need my help?”

Anakin only stared at him.

“I’m going to wait to ask again. For now, I’m going to help you stand up, alright?” Obi-wan held his gaze, and after a moment, Anakin nodded minutely.

It wasn’t much, but it proved that Anakin was in there still.

Obi-wan stood up himself before lowering into a crouch again. He put his hands on Anakin’s arms gently from the other side of the towel, which was already starting to get damp from his sodden clothes.

“One… two… three,” Obi-wan counted, and on three, more ‘lifted him’ than helped Anakin lift himself from the floor. 

Anakin’s eyes met his again, still void, but showing a faint flicker of recognition. 

“Can I move you to another room?”

Anakin nodded, looking down. 

Obi-wan guided him from the ‘fresher, moving out of the narrow door himself before helping to guide Anakin from the small room into his sleeping quarters. 

“Do you want to sleep?” Obi-wan murmured. 

Anakin began to nod, but then shook his vigorously. 

Obi-wan nodded to show Anakin he understood, as well as he could, given that he had no idea what Anakin was going through. Perhaps another anxiety attack?

When they made it into the main room, Anakin slowed and brought the both of them to a stop. He moved to go to the couch, but Obi-wan tapped him on the arm, gaining his attention.

“We need to get you into something dry, alright? Can you stay here while I grab you a pair of sleeping robes?”

Anakin nodded, eyes on the floor once again. 

Obi-wan walked quickly back into Anakin’s room, selecting the first pair of tunic and sleeping pants he found before turning around and rushing back to his side. Anakin was still staring at the couch.

“Would you like help, Anakin?”

It was a while before he nodded, and even then, it was small, much like the rest of his movements. The young man who was usually bursting with life was like a shadow in his own skin, there physically, but very much gone otherwise. 

“I’m going to take the towel off for now, alright?”

Anakin nodded, same as before. 

Obi-wan narrated to Anakin as he removed the towel, and monitored him closely for any signs of uncomfort. As he moved to Anakin’s back to unclasp th breastplate, Anakin turned his head, keeping the man in his field of vision. Obi-wan eased the heavy mantle off of his shoulders, and moved around to his front as he lifted it off of his arms, setting it down on the floor by their feet. Then, he pulled the cape from Anakin’s shoulders, the fabric three times heavier from the water. That went with the breastplate. Underneath, Anakin wore a green tunic and pants, similar to the Jedi garb. 

“Do you want me to keep going, or do you want to take it from here? Nod for help, shake your head for you continuing.”

Anakin looked at his master, eyelids heavy. He was tired, so incredibly tired. 

He was emotionally exhausted, and his limbs felt like lead, even without the cape. But now, he felt exposed. And cold.

He nodded. He couldn’t bring himself to do anything to help himself. He was angry at his limbs. For malfunctioning and abandoning him. For not letting him get away faster, for not --

“Hey, hey, it’s alright. It’s just me,” Obi-wan’s voice sounded klicks away, underwater. Anakin was somewhat aware that his heart rate had spiked again, and his breathing quickened. 

“Are you sure you want help?” 

Anakin nodded again, looking at a spot on Obi-wan’s shoulder, rather than his face. He couldn’t stand the idea of looking at his eyes again. The emotion held there made him feel lesser. He wouldn’t be upset if he knew what had happened, Anakin told himself. His skin felt foreign. 

Obi-wan picked up the tunic from the couch, draping it over his own shoulder before loosening the buttons on Anakin’s sleeves, again cautious not to touch his skin. Anakin helped him remove his tunic, pulling his traitorous arms from the sleeves, and bending to allow Obi-wan to pull it from his shoulders. He bit back a wince as the towel patted gently at his skin, grabbing the excess moisture, and then he was eased into the clean tunic. It smelled like the Temple laundering detergent that he and Obi-wan used when washing their robes. It didn’t smell like himself. Anakin probably would have thrown up right there if it did. 

_ You smell nice. Has anyone told you? _

He shuddered. 

Obi-wan turned his back as Anakin made quick work of switching his pants, glad to get something back on that felt  _ right. _

Obi-wan grabbed the discarded clothing, and took it to the washing room off of the main room. He came back soon enough, and wrapped a blanket around Anakin’s shoulders, towelling off his hair before also taking the towel into the room. 

When he came back, Anakin was sat down on the couch, blanket wrapped tightly around him, but he was still shivering. Obi-wan crouched in front of him, looking up into his tired apprentice’s face.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Anakin shook his head.

“Sleep, then?”

Anakin shrugged, looking away from him. 

“What can I do?”

_ Stay?  _

Obi-wan felt his insides twirl with relief, and many other emotions he didn’t have a name for, when he heard Anakin’s voice in his thoughts. It was as if an invisible weight had been lifted from his shoulders, just knowing that Anakin was still somewhere in there. That he wasn’t gone without an explanation.

Obi-wan perched himself on the opposite side of the couch from Anakin, making sure there was space in between the two of them.

Anakin scooted around, curling in on himself, feet on the couch, blanket further wrapping himself up, like a cocoon. 

Obi-wan slipped into a light meditative state, posture near impeccable, legs folded up beneath him, hands on his knees. 

Anakin’s force signature seemed to have regained a bit of its glow, but it still looked sick, and wrong, as it didn’t shine as it had before. 

Obi-wan regretted not reinstating his side of their bond after he came back from the mission. After that, and his time in the Halls of Healing, he had just been so busy, and had grown accustomed to the silence of his own head.

Maybe if he hadn’t shut himself away for longer than he needed to, he would’ve known how to help Anakin. Now all he could do was sit and wait, letting Anakin come to him on his own time. 

He was shaken from his state in an hour or so when he felt something land on his leg. 

Eyes opening, he saw that Anakin had fallen asleep, head on his thigh. His eyebrows were knit lightly together in his sleep, but otherwise, he seemed to have stopped shaking.

Obi-wan sighed. He then used the force to reach into his own room, and drag over the blanket from his bed to where he was, not wanting to get up and disturb Anakin.

It wasn’t improper use of the force if it was to avoid waking his friend. 

He pulled the blanket around himself, and then draped the excess over Anakin, turning the lights off before he let himself fall asleep, brow knit with worry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey kiddos  
> i hope you are doing well  
> sorry this chapter was pretty heavy, but the next one will hopefully make up for it
> 
> please let me know your thoughts, and holY SHIT THIS HAS LIKE ALMOST 900 HITS I'M GOING TO LITERALLY CRY
> 
> pls im such an attention whore and i thrive on feedback
> 
> take care of yourselves, stay healthy, and blanket burrito yourself today if you haven't yet  
> it's worth it, i promise  
> like a long-distance hug from me to you (or, if you aren't super good with physical contact, think of it as you are a cozy lil tapeworm swimming through some tubes xoxoxo
> 
> love to you all  
> xo spiders


	8. I walk my days on a wire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anakin figures out how to avoid his feelings  
> a speed through of AOTC because honestly i don't like the vibes in that movie  
> we learn more of the plot of the Sith

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> song title from "Cherry Wine" by Hozier

Anakin didn’t bring up the events of the prior evening. 

In fact, he woke up, and pretended that nothing had happened. He went back to his usual outwardly-joyous self, but Obi-wan knew that he wasn’t remotely alright. There was an underlying tension, a fragility in his nature. Like he could accidentally say something and Anakin would break. 

He had no relief from the haunted expression in his apprentice’s eyes in his sleep. They were part of him now, lurking behind his eyelids and threatening to consume him alive. 

He was worried at how emotionally tangled with his padawan he had become.

So he, too, pretended the previous night had not occurred. 

Anakin would talk when he was ready.

Anakin resolved to visit the cafe that afternoon. 

He was in need of some strong caf, and the company from Ryth was nice. 

Asking Mace or Obi-wan to come with him would have been nice, but he couldn’t bring himself to look at either of them. 

Also, he didn’t want Ryth to meet his masters. Ryth was a person that he had outside of the Temple, and it was nice… but he just, felt odd about the prospect of him meeting Obi-wan. 

Jumping into the nearest speeder, which luckily was his own, he sped off through the crisp, cool air. 

The city seemed asleep, though it was past noon. Like everything was as tired as Anakin was himself. 

When he approached the cafe, now able to spot it on the first attempt, he was relieved to see that there were only a few patrons sitting around, all of whom seemed to be busy.

Ryth was perched on the counter, sipping a caf of some sort and reading a holopad. 

There was a small chime as Anakin entered, and when Ryth looked up and made eye contact with him, Anakin’s glum mood shied away at the expression of utter delight on the obsidian Twi’lek’s face. 

“Anakin! Hey! I wasn’t expecting you to swing by,” he beamed. Anakin smiled back, the man’s excitement contagious.

“Hello, Ryth, just thought I’d swing by, the caf here is uncontested on Coruscant.”

The wiater laughed incredulously.

“Seriously? I mean, maybe on this block, but it isn’t like  _ the best _ or anything,” he stumbled, deflecting the compliment.

“Well, don’t tell me that, I don’t go anywhere else outside the Temple for it,” his eyes twinkled. 

Ryth hopped off of the counter, circling around behind it.

“The usual?”

Anakin smiled, “sure, sounds great.”

Ryth smiled, looking down at his hands as he moved about readying Anakin’s accidental drink of choice, that had turned out to be  _ much _ better than he had expected when he had randomly panic-selected it a week or so ago. 

Anakin accepted the drink with a thanks, and then heavily tipped Ryth for the caf. The Twi’lek tilted his head to the side, puzzled and amused, at the hefty tip, but Anakin shrugged and pushed the credits towards him. Ryth took half of the credits offered and rolled his eyes playfully as he went to deposit them in the register, but Anakin was persistent, and used the force to levitate the credits, putting them in before Ryth could close it.

“Is that? What? That’s cheating, you can’t do that.” Ryth laughed incredulously. 

“It’s not cheating,” Anakin laughed, “just ‘improper use of the force’ according to some. And please, it’s not like many people actually tip you.”

“That’s borderline extortion, mister Jedi.”

“Reverse extorsion.” Anakin smiled, leaning against the counter from where he was sat on a stool. Ryth laughed, his head tilting back.

They made small talk until Ryth fetched the order for a teen girl, who was balancing a holopad and a wallet against her hip, accepting the caf gratefully as she walked to a booth. A student, Anakin concluded. 

“You seem distracted,” Ryth said, leaning on his side of the counter. He was smiling faintly, but his eyes were worried.

Anakin looked away, sipping his caf. 

“Tired, ‘s all,” he said, forcing himself to look back up and give Ryth a reassuring smile. 

“Mm, I’m not sure if I entirely believe you, but I’ll accept your answer.” Ryth smiled in return, playfully raising an eyebrow. 

“How are you, then?” Anakin asked.

“Me? Oh, I’m actually doing pretty well.”

“Yeah? That’s good to hear,” Anakin beamed. Ryth laughed quietly.

“Thank you. I just paid off my parent’s house on Alderaan, and they sent me back a recording of my little brother.” he smiled at the mention of his sibling.

“That’s sweet, and very kind of you to do for them.”

“It’s the least I could do, you know? They got us out of a bad situation on Ryloth, and it took them a  _ lot _ of time to get funds together to send me to school. I’m just happy they’re alright now, and that my brother is able to keep them busy and happy.”

Anakin smiled softly, liking the way that Ryth’s eyes lit up at the mention of his admission that he was happy his parents were doing well.

“How old is your brother?” he ventured.

“Yaz is almost six, now. He’s around fourteen years younger than I am. Honestly, I was just surprised my parents were able to even spawn him, at their age.”

Anakin snorted, laughing so hard that the caf had tried to escape his nose. He held a napkin to his face as he laughed through his coughs.

“Oh no, I’m sorry!” Ryth laughed, moving to cover his mouth with his hand.

Anakin laughed more as his fit of coughs subsided, smiling, eyes shining a bit from the sting of caf up his nose. At least it wasn’t as hot as before, he thought.

“It’s alright, just  _ really _ funny actually. Very unexpected,” Anakin laughed.

“I believe you’ll find me full of surprises,” Ryth’s eyes twinkled.

* * *

Anakin bid his farewell to Ryth as more people were entering the cafe, and he walked outside, the cool air caressing his face. 

He looked back over his shoulders through the glass. Ryth was smiling as he took the person at the front of the queue’s order. 

Anakin smiled to himself, feeling exhausted. 

It was nice to have talked with Ryth, but being happy for that long made him hurt even more. He felt that he wasn’t worthy of being happy. 

Climbing into his speeder, he wondered what he was to do. Obviously, he needed to return to the Temple, but he  _ really  _ didn’t want to. Then he felt guilty for not wanting to go back. He had to go where he was needed. It obviously didn’t matter what he wanted. Or what he didn’t want. 

As he pulled up to the Temple lot, his reluctance only built.

_ Just say the word, and the position is yours. _

Anakin shuddered, and pressed a hand over his eyes, the other pulling his arm protectively over his chest. He straightened his legs, pushing his back into the seat. The pressure helped to ground him. He was alone, there was nobody in the speeder with him.

He was going to exit the speeder, go inside the Temple, head to his room, change into looser clothing, and then go to the training room. 

It was simple, but it gave him something easy to accomplish. 

As he breathed out, he rolled his shoulders back, trying to shake off the thick feeling of depression that had settled on his back, and seeped into his skull.

He climbed out of the speeder, much slower than the normal lunge out of it. But he did manage to exit it, which ticked off one item on his list. He smiled to himself. 

See? Not that difficult, he thought to himself, I can do this.

He walked into the Temple, and saw Ootar sneaking around a pillar, back to the hallway Anakin was standing in.

He didn’t want to talk to anybody, but he felt compelled to see if the Youngling needed help.

“Hey,” Anakin whispered. Ootar whipped his head around, eyes wide.

“Ani! Help, please?”

Anakin crouched over, and waddled over to where the Rhodian was hiding. 

“Who are we sneaking on?” Anakin whispered. Ootar made a shushing noise at him, finger to his lips.

“Not sneak. Hide.” 

“Alright, who are we hiding from?” Ootar looked around the pillar a last time before pressing his back to it, facing Anakin.

“Every.” the Rhodian said, shy but determined.

“Everyone?” Ootar nodded. “I can understand that. Do you want me to leave?”

The Youngling hesitated.

“Yes, no.”

“Let’s make a deal. I’ll leave, but first I’ll help you sneak back to your room. That sound good?”

“Acceptable.” 

Anakin smiled, standing up.

He lifted his cloak a bit, allowing space for the Youngling to hide in it, holding on to Anakin’s leg.

Anakin felt his pulse rise, not anticipating the contact. But given that it was a child, Ootar probably didn’t understand his need for space right now. It would only be for a bit, they Youngling’s room was close enough. After that, he could finish his list. He already made it back into the Temple. That’s two things off the list.

_ It’s not about what I want, it’s always about other people -- Shut up. _ He mentally scolded himself.

Anakin made sure to walk slowly enough that the extra weight on his leg wouldn’t seem obvious, and after turning down a few hallways, he arrived at Ootar’s room. 

“Psst, we’re here,” Anakin whispered down at his leg.

The Rhodian detached himself, and scurried out from underneath the cloak.

Anakin smiled at the kid, who nodded at the Padawan, before accessing his rooms, darting inside. Just as Anakin was going to turn back and head to his rooms, the door hissed open, and Ootar shoved something into his hand before running back inside.

Looking at it, Anakin smiled. 

It was a small pebble, with a letter “A” etched into the centre. 

He fought the tears that welled up in his eyes, he couldn’t remember the last time someone had actually  _ given _ him something unexpectedly.

He brought the pebble to his forehead, the rock itself being no larger than the inside of his palm, before slipping it into a pouch at his belt. 

As he made it back to his own room, he sighed, sitting down with his back to the wall just inside his door.

That’s three, he thought.

* * *

Anakin was able to cross off all of the items within half an hour, and now he stood in an empty training room, completely out of ideas. 

Obviously he should train, but he didn’t want to. So there he stood. 

It must have been an hour at the least before Anakin was discovered, standing in the dark, staring blankly at the ground.

“Anakin?”

The man in question turned his head, catching sight of the man in the door.

“Obi-wan.” he greeted.

“What are you up to?” his master questioned, truly puzzled by his apprentice’s mannerisms. 

“Training… I think.” Anakin looked back down. 

“Care for a spar?” Obi-wan asked, airily. Anakin whirled around, eyes wide.

He ignited his sabre and held it so it pointed at Obi-wan.

“Who are you, and  _ what _ have you done with Obi-wan.” He demanded theatrically.

The older man laughed, before rolling his cloak off of his shoulders, letting it pool to the floor at his feet. He ignited his own lightsabre, and crouched into his go-to start position, catching Anakin’s face between his fingers from a distance.

Anakin smirked, before jumping and attacking Obi-wan from his left side. 

The men whirled around in a precarious dance of blue light, their fighting styles, so familiar to one another, complimenting the acrobatics used to escape an oncoming swing, or to expose an unguarded area. Obi-wan jumped and flipped over Anakin, turning to block his quickly-readjusted strike. Anakin laughed as he barely managed to duck underneath one of his master’s sweeping horizontal strikes, feeling the heat of the blade

They danced around each other, talents matched. It was getting to the point where Anakin started to win twice out of five, rather than one out of twenty. Just when Anakin felt he had the upper hand, Obi-wan got closer to him and kicked him right in the ribs, sending him flying backwards. He landed on his back, and gasped as the air was knocked out of him. Obi-wan stood over him, lightsabre pointing at his chest, feet planted on either side of Anakin’s knees.

“Do you yield, Padawan?”

“I’m,” Anakin gasped, “I’m beginning to think that you call me that so often, just to make yourself -- hah -- feel older than you are.”

“Resulting to cheap tactics to gain time, are we, now?” Obi-wan droned, eyes amused, hand coming to rest at his hip.

“ … no,” Anakin stalled.

“Is that so? Because I know you, Anakin --” Obi-wan caught Anakin’s lightsabre mid-air as the boy had tried to summon it to his hand. Anakin gaped at him, slightly offended at how easily he had predicted his next step. “ -- I even taught you that.”

Obi-wan smiled, deactivating his sabre, and leaning down to offer Anakin his hand.

Anakin looked at the hand outstretched to him, and tilted his head as he considered taking it. 

He eventually decided to take it, and let himself be pulled up. 

Having someone touch his hand was different than cling to, or even accidentally touch, his legs or neck. 

As he stood, he found himself almost nose-to-nose with Obi-wan. Obi-wan’s eyes widened as Anakin’s face went pink.

“Hold on a second,” Obi-wan said, cautiously.

Anakin swallowed.

“Did you get  _ taller _ than me?”

* * *

“Are you sure you’re alright, Anakin?”

“I’m fine, Master.”

“I haven’t seen you this tense since we landed in that nest of Gundarks,” Obi-wan teased lightly.

“The way I remember it, Master,  _ you _ fell into that nightmare and I rescued you.”

“Ah, well then.”

Anakin fidgeted as the lift took them to an unfamiliar apartment nearly two klicks from the Temple, on the very top floor of a  _ very _ expensive apartment compound.

“I haven’t seen her in ten years, Master.”

“I know, Anakin,”

_ I haven’t seen her since I was head over heels for her. _

Obi-wan lifted an eyebrow, and Anakin went scarlet.

“Please do try to remember Anakin, this assignment is a  _ protective _ one, not an investigative one.”

“I hope it will remain that way.”

“As do I, my friend.”

Anakin smiled to himself

* * *

“Do you  _ have _ to go jumping out of windows all the time? Is it really  _ that _ necessary?” Anakin said, peeved, as Obi-wan climbed into the passenger seat of the speeder he found, eyes locked on the would-be assassin’s speeder.

“Yes, well, we can’t all be perfect, though I do try.” Obi-wan laughed.

Anakin smirked, weaving his way though oncoming civilian traffic to close the distance between them and the bounty hunter. 

As they rounded a corner, the speeder zipped into a tunnel. Anakin sped up and went around the buildings instead.

“What are you doing? He went that way!” Obi-wan shouted, trying to be heard over the roar of late night traffic.

“I know a shortcut.”

“You have better be right about this,” 

“I strive to be, master.”

The ‘shortcut’ proved to be futile, no sign of where the tunnel let out in sight.

“That was  _ some _ shortcut, Anakin.”

“I am sorry, Master.”

As Obi-wan launched into a spiel about how Anakin should listen more, Anakin heard the distinct whine of the speeder’s engine, somewhere below them.

“If you would excuse me,” Anakin interrupted, rolling out of the speeder and falling swiftly.

_ Force! Kriffing  _ numbskull _ what is he doing now! _ Obi-wan swore.

Predictably, Anakin managed to crash the speeder near a nightclub, which gave Obi-wan the opportunity to grab something strong while Anakin stalked through the intoxicated crowd. 

It was all hot air, sweaty skin, and the rank scent of expensive alcohol imported from a planet that would have sold a litre of it for less than a credit. Obi-wan  _ thrived _ in such environments. He could rely on his charm, and a bit of force interference, to get the information he needed, and if that didn’t work out for him, he could get plastered along the way. Just for fun.

Anakin had started to circle back to him, silhouette barely visible amidst the neon lights and swaying people. Obi-wan sensed someone’s adrenaline running higher and colder than intoxication-induced adrenaline. Calculating the pace of his swing, he ignited his sabre and relieved the bounty hunter of her arm, blaster included. 

Anakin nodded his thanks before they dragged her out of the club, Anakin encouraging the patrons to return to their questionable activities.

* * *

“Have you succeeded in bringing him any closer to yourself?”

“No, my Lord.”

The hooded man snarled.

“And what, do tell, is your excuse?”

The Instigator squirmed, but held their ground.

“The events on Geonosis hindered my efforts -”

They were cut off as something invisible began to constrict their throat. They scrambled to remove what wasn’t there, grasping at nothing.

“You should be  _ grateful,” _ he ground out, teeth unnaturally sharp, eyes glowing.

“Geonosis has brought you  _ time _ you otherwise wouldn’t have had. It is,” he inhaled heavily, “most unfortunate that the Clone War had started before he became unbalanced. You will need to work harder, or I will find a replacement. Do not think that you are a crucial piece to my plans. Comply, and you will be rewarded. Fail me, and you will suffer more than the sweet embrace of death would spare you from.”

The Instigator nodded, eyes wide.

The hologram ended, and they put their head in their hands. They had gotten  _ so  _ close to the Jedi, but something had changed. He was more distant, reserving with his gazes. They were certain they had ensnared the man, but just before the whole ordeal, he changed almost completely, not reacting to  _ any _ of their advancements. 

They wondered if they were being set up for a failure. This mission was turning out to be  _ much _ more than they had bargained for. Physical injuries, putting themself in  _ danger _ for a pathetic man they barely knew. 

* * *

“Anakin? Are you alright?”

Anakin blinked his eyes open, whole body sore. 

“I, I think… so?” 

He glanced down at his right hand. 

_ So it wasn’t a nightmare. _

He flexed his fingers, and the durasteel prosthetic matched his movements. The hand looked like that of a skeleton: there wasn’t padding, and the joints whirred almost silently as he rotated his wrist.

He glanced up at Padmé, her brown eyes filled with concern.

“Yeah, I am.” he restated, voice stronger.

“Oh, Ani, I’m so glad,” she rushed towards him, throwing her arms around him. He patted her back, awkwardly. 

Ever since she had confessed her love for him on Naboo, it had been uncomfortable. This was barely a day into their forced retreat to the lake for her safety. After that, it had been tense dinners, Anakin trying to avoid her touching him, and her never getting the hint, despite being otherwise adept at reading people. They had remained in the same lakehouse for nearly a week, before Obi-wan had managed to make contact with them, and Padmé demanded they go to Geonosis to help him. 

She pulled back, biting her lip as she searched his face. Her eyes darted to his mouth, before back to his eyes. She lightly traced his flesh hand with her fingertips, before leaning in.

“Padmé, please.” Anakin had leaned away from her, raising his durasteel hand between them to keep her at bay.

“Is something wrong, Ani?”

“You didn’t ask, you don’t ever ask.”

She pouted minutely, eyebrows drawing together, eyes pleading.

“May I kiss you?”

Anakin shook his head.

“No.” he said quietly.

She looked down, still not backing away.

“Why not?”

“Is the fact that I said no not enough?”

“Don’t you like me, Ani? You followed me into Geonosis, you stayed to protect me, you-”

“- it’s my duty to do as the Council says, Padmé. Please.” 

She nodded, looking to the wall. 

“I’m… I think I need some space to think.” she said softly. Anakin watched her as she turned and gracefully left the medbay on the ship. 

She was pretty, but he barely knew her. And she didn’t really understand what he didn’t say explicitly. Even then, attachment is highly dissuaded in the Order.

So, he wasn’t broken for not liking her like he should, he just didn’t like her because of a few things. He still felt guilty rejecting her. Something tugged at him that told him that she was someone he should kill to be with, but he needed time to think. 

Ever since that day in the Senate building, he hadn’t been able to clearly think about how his relations with those around him had changed. But they had.

  
  


Even though he didn’t provide reasons, he had told Mace that he didn’t trust the Chancellor.

“I agree with you.” had been his simple response. 

Anakin had blinked, taken aback by the Jedi Master’s easy agreement. He had been bracing himself to divulge other details, with massive parts excluded, to get Mace to understand.

He was really grateful he didn’t have to explain it.

When Obi-wan and Mace had visited Anakin after getting off of Geonosis, they had released a breath they didn’t realise they had been holding to see that he was alright.

Shaken, yes. Missing an arm, yes. But most importantly, he was still alive, and his force signature hadn’t been altered by the result of the duel with the fallen Jedi count.

“Sorry it isn’t much to look at,” Mace stated bluntly, indicating the mechanical arm.

“Oh, no it’s fine, really-”

“Well, we should’ve chipped in more, but the Jedi budget doesn’t cover state-of-the-art prosthetics. I have a feeling that will change now that a war has started, though.”

Anakin smiled weakly. Mace ruffled his hair, then left the two men alone.

“You are alright?” Obi-wan said, sitting on the edge of Anakin’s hospital bed.

“Yeah, it’s just a scratch.” Anakin tried to maintain a straight face, but lost his composure at Obi-wan’s incredibly wide eyes.

“Your sense of humour never fails to surprise me, Anakin.”

Anakin smirked at the compliment.

“Well, somebody has to turn your hair white.”

Obi-wan stopped smiling. He looked nervous.

“What is it?” Anakin said, worried to even start the conversation.

“The Council has waived your Trials.”

“Oh.”

Anakin looked down at his new hand, trying to figure out how he felt. 

His instinct was to vomit, worried that the Chancellor had pulled strings. 

“Why?” he ventured, face paling by the second.

“You’ve faced a Sith Lord, you lost your arm, you protected a Senator for the  _ second _ time in a season, and you are ready, my Padawan.”

Anakin breathed a silent sigh of relief. He still felt dizzy.

“What if I’m not ready? I’m barely nineteen, and I still have so much to learn -”

_ I don’t want to have to break our bond. _

“-And you will continue to learn from me, but as an equal.”

Anakin stared openly at him.

“What?”

“Given we are now at war,” Obi-wan said carefully, “the Jedi have been promoted to Generals of the Republic Army--”

“-- but we’re peacekeepers, are we not?”

“Yes, but I think the logic is that by waging war, we are securing a lasting peace for  _ after _ the combat.”

“That doesn’t make much sense.”

“Believe me, the Council agrees. And given that we are now at war, we will be working together.”

Anakin beamed, eyes shining.

“Really?” he was elated, voice betraying his emotions.

“Really.” Obi-wan smiled, gathering his soon to be former-Padawan in a hug.

The younger man left tears on Obi-wan’s cloak, and Obi-wan did all he could not to return the favour. 

It wasn’t becoming of a Jedi to become so attached.

But he was starting to think there were other, more positive reasons to be attached. 

Truthfully, he didn’t want to let go of his best friend. His closest companion of years. 

And he didn’t have to, at least for some time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tired but screeching internally because WOW this has over 1K hits!!!  
> and, as of now, this is my longest fic, and it's not even halfway done!  
> thank you dears for putting up with me.
> 
> also! what do you guys think of Ryth? I'm curious.
> 
> stay safe lovelies,  
> xo spiders


	9. We say words, but we don't talk anymore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anakin adjusts to his new arm, and as the clone war kicks up, he meets Rex and the 501st, before preparing for an assignment with Obi-wan's 212th.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from "Just Say When" - Nothing More
> 
> this one's a bit shorter than usual, and is more of a filler  
> things will kick up in earnest next chapter, which should be a bit longer than this one  
> and omG ALMOST 100 kudos!! I'm so happy, thank you guys!

Anakin felt strange. 

It felt odd to not have the braid behind his right ear. But the look on Obi-wan’s face as he severed it had nearly brought tears to Anakin’s eyes. He had presented it to his former master almost as soon as they left the Council chamber. 

His hair had begun to grow out, it now fell to just below his ears, and could brush the tops of his eyebrows. 

He still felt uncomfortable around people for long periods of time, but he was learning how to deal with it more effectively. 

Ootar had actually kicked him when he returned from Geonosis those months ago, when the Youngling heard he had lost an arm. 

“Arm!” Ootar shouted, offended.

“Yeah, kiddo, only got one of those now.”

“Show me,” Ootar demanded, pointing at Anakin’s mechanical hand.

“Alright,” Anakin said, pulling off his leather glove to reveal the durasteel skeleton.

Ootar poked it with a finger, before grabbing Anakin’s metal forefinger.

“It same.” the Youngling smiled, before allowing him to replace the glove, then pulling Anakin off to show him an interesting plant he had found in the gardens a few levels down.

Anakin had laughed then, feeling much lighter knowing that the Youngling didn’t think less of him because of his failures in battle. He did, however, begin wearing leather gloves on both hands. It made him uncomfortable to look at his mechanical arm. It was a physical, constant, reminder of his inept dueling abilities.

But the gloves made him feel tougher, and less childlike. 

Obi-wan had let his beard grow out a bit more, and had  _ finally _ cut the mullet. He adored his master, but it made taking him seriously sometimes difficult. 

The war had also changed the Jedi garb. Away was the relaxed robes of times of peace, and instead were the traditional layers, but with modifications to allow some of the Kaminoian armour to protect vital areas. 

Anakin had initially thought it was funny that both Obi-wan and Mace had decided to use the white gauntlets that reached their elbows, but then decided to keep his mouth shut. They both had arms to protect, and well, he only really had to worry about one.

Both he and Obi-wan had used breast and shoulder plates, Obi-wan sticking to white, while Anakin prefered the dark blue and maroon. He thought they made for a dashing pair, but he doubted the battle droids would hesitate at their sartorial elegance long enough to cost them the war. 

Ootar found it  _ hilarious _ when he learned that Anakin had needed to go collect a new kyber crystal after coming back from Geonosis. Even more so when he learned that he was leaving to Ilum just as a group of Younglings was to go on their ceremony, and that they had begged “Mister Anakin” to come with them. 

He didn’t feel as bad about it when he learned the same thing had happened to Obi-wan  _ twice. _

  
  
  


“Hey!” Ryth called, startling the customer he was supposed to be serving. He had caught sight of Anakin, who he hadn’t seen nor heard from since before the Battle of Geonosis. 

Anakin smiled shyly as the Twi’lek bounded over the table that separated him from the Jedi. He came to a stop right as he stood in front of Anakin, staring at his face, eyes shining.

“I had no idea… I thought you had died.” Ryth said, voice shaking as his breathing came deeper.

“I’m sorry, I should have checked in earlier,” Anakin apologised, rubbing the back of his neck self consciously. 

Ryth punched him lightly in the chest. He was frowning, but he was still delighted to see the Jedi, if the tears and smile was any indication.

“Congratulations on the promotion, idiot.” he smiled, sniffing.

Anakin smiled shyly at the shorter man. 

“I’d love to catch up, after your… uh,” he gestured to the two people standing in line at the counter.

“Kriff,” Ryth whispered, scurrying over to the counter. 

Anakin laughed as he watched him return to work, smiling and engaging with the customers politely, obviously a bright spot in their days, if for however briefly. It was good to see someone  _ normal _ around him for a change. Not treating him like he was going to break if they sneezed the wrong way, or talked too loudly. The cafe was his safe spot before Geonosis, and he was regretting not coming back sooner, if not for himself, but for Ryth. 

There weren’t complicated feelings with Ryth. He didn’t have to pretend that he was some completely joyous apprentice, he didn’t have to pretend that he was an unfeeling Jedi Knight. He could just be Anakin, a normalish person, with normalish problems, and with valid feelings that he didn’t need to hate himself for. 

He could have a friend who didn’t necessarily understand  _ everything _ that he went through, because that was for him to know. He could have a friend that made him laugh, and told him stories of what it was like to work full-time in a cafe while balancing caring for parents and trying to save up enough money to move somewhere nice. 

It might have seemed normal to Ryth, what he lives, but to Anakin, it was a breath of fresh air that wasn’t politics, war, or Jedi. He missed it. 

Ryth slid into his side of the booth.

“On break?” Anakin asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, actually. TY2 said she’d cover for me for at least an hour. I  _ adore _ that droid,” Ryth sighed, smiling, pushing a caf towards Anakin.

“Hold on, I didn’t pay -”

“Shut up, flyboy. It’s on me. Think of it as your two-in-one reward for your Knighting and Being Alive After Scaring Me For Months.” Ryth smirked, rolling his eyes.

“Thanks, Ryth,” Anakin said, making eye contact for a fleeting moment.

“Nice gloves,” Ryth gestured at Anakin’s hands, both of which were visible. Anakin squirmed.

“Did it hurt?” the Twi’lek continued, indicating Anakin’s right arm.

“Uh, how… how did you know?” Anakin stammered, face going pink as he switched the caf to his left hand, making to move his right arm into his lap. Ryth caught his hand before it left the table, however, and lightly held it in his obsidian hand.

“You usually don’t wear gloves. And, the caf was pretty hot. You usually put it down almost immediately.”

Anakin’s eyes widened with impressed surprise.

“You seem to know me pretty well,” he laughed bashfully, looking down at their joined hands.

“Well, I’d say that’s an overstatement. I just notice these things, is all.” it was Ryth’s time to look away, quickly taking a sip of caf.

“Yeah, it did. Hurt, that is.”

Ryth gave his mechanical hand a gentle squeeze. Anakin squeezed back.

“I guess we have more in common now,” Ryth laughed.

Anakin shook his head, not following. Ryth withdrew his hand, before lifting a forefinger to indicate that he would answer in a moment. The Twi’lek shifted on the seat before lifting his left knee on to the surface, then rolling up his pant leg, showing off a prosthetic.

“Wow, I had no idea,” Anakin breathed. “How long?”

“I’d say about… fifteen years now? I’ve had most of my life to get used to it, so it’s pretty normal to me at this point. Was definitely weird when I was growing up and we could only afford to replace it every year or so. Given my growth spurts, sometimes I’d be hobbling around lopsided until it was time,” he laughed self consciously, rolling his pant leg back down and placing his foot on the bench.

“Was this part of why you needed to get off Ryloth?”

Ryth nodded, lips thinned as they pressed together. He reached for his caf again, obviously uncomfortable with where the subject was headed.

“I understand the whole ‘not wanting to talk about the past’ thing, but if you need to, I’ll gladly listen.” Anakin’s eyes were sincere as he met Ryth’s, only after having to tilt his head to catch the man’s attention. Ryth gave him a look that could stop time around them, the sheer emotion on his face. He mouthed ‘thank you’ at the Jedi, reeling from someone actually wanting to provide him with emotional support, of any kind. Even if it was just an offer.

“So… any more appearances from that weird lady with the handbags?”

Ryth laughed before launching into a story about a curious woman who had been coming in and asking to trade caf for custom handbags. 

When Anakin left about an hour later, he felt lighter. 

* * *

“General! General Skywalker!”

Anakin frowned, turning to see who was calling his name. He wasn’t quite used to the title yet, which is partially why he turned around. Normally, he would have preferred to put off answering the person until they were right on him.

A clone was running up to him, armour relatively dinged up, and the shoulder pad showed his staus. 

Anakin nodded, waiting for the clone to speak. The clone soluted him, standing at attention.

“Uh, at ease, trooper.”

“Thank you Sir.”

“What can I help you with?”

“I was told to report to you for the mission, sir. I am clone trooper CT-7567. I’ll be leading the 501st with you, sir.”

“I’m sorry, CT…?” 

“CT-7567. You can also call me Rex, sir.”

“Gladly, Captain Rex. I’m Anakin Skywalker, Jedi Knight.”

“I know, General Skywalker.”

“Anakin is fine, Rex. We’ll be around each other a lot, so it’s alright to drop the formalities a bit.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, sir.” The trooper’s smile could be felt through his helmet.

As they boarded the shuttle, Anakin looked around at the clones gathered on the platform, waiting to get into the craft for their departure. 

Anakin noticed that in the force, despite physically looking similar, the clones were all incredibly unique people. It made him feel much better about having to act as a leader. It would make him less likely to screw something up, with the opportunity for collaboration and multiple perspectives. 

He noted that they would be meeting up with the 212th, which was Obi-wan’s division, in a standard week, off one of the moons of Corellia, from where they would begin their joint campaign to Cristophsis, where the Separatists had begun to dominate the world. 

Anakin hummed as he looked over the map he had on his holopad while the pilot started the launching sequence. Normally, he would have insisted on flying, but given that this was his first official day as a General, he decided he would instead spend time  _ actually _ trying to get a grasp on the situation. Now that he saw some of the planets surrounding Christophsis, he remembered that when he was… younger, he heard some space pilots talking about making the Corellian Run to bring spice to Coruscant. Given that Corellia was close enough to Coruscant, he guessed that it was Obi-wan who was slowing them down on their way to Christophsis. But, rather late than alone. 

When they got to the star destroyer they would be using for the mission, Anakin couldn’t help but go slack-jawed at the sight. The ship itself was a Venator Class, over a klick long and nearly half one wide. It was truly a sight to behold, the red accent on the outside setting it at odds with the other ships. 

“A Venator, sir,” Rex noticed Anakin’s staring, “soon to be Jedi Cruisers, apparently.”

“‘Jedi Cruiser’?” Anakin questioned, hint of a laugh on his lips.

“Yes sir, the other Generals will each have one.”

“What’s this one called, then?”

“The  _ Resolute,  _ sir.”

Anakin nodded, finding a sense of humour in the name given his stubbornness. 

Force, Obi-wan would tease him forever.

They had been in orbit over the Corellian moon for only four standard rotations before  _ The Negotiator _ entered their scanners. Anakin hadn’t seen Obi-wan in perhaps a month, but he was eager to see his old master. Particularly given all of the large changes, what with a war going on, and their first assignment together to the front lines on Christophsis. The experience Anakin had garnered at Geonosis gave him a sense of where he should be when leading his men into battle, and the scar he acquired shortly thereafter at least made him look older. He had considered growing a beard, just to hide his age, but then decided against it. He would leave the beard camouflage to his friend. Many around him had actually thought Kenobi was nearer to a decade older than him solely because of the beard.

Yikes, he thought, Obi-wan hasn’t seen the scar.

He inwardly cringed, first the arm, now the scar. The war hadn’t been on two months and he was already falling to bits. He hoped his former master had faired better. Knowing him, he probably had quite a few bruises, but avoided the larger, more maiming, injuries Anakin seemed to be prone to.

The ship’s incoming friendly craft alert came on, and Anakin turned to face the landing bay, crossing his arms over his chest to stimulate an air of authority. The small shuttle landed gracefully, and after the ramp descended, Obi-wan strode out, followed by a clone in yellow armour. Anakin and Rex went over to meet them.

“You’re early, old man.” Anakin smirked, enjoying the height difference he now had over the other man.

“Yes, well, at least my old age wasn’t able to scrub away my memory of your wit.” Obi-wan stated, Coruscanti lilt giving every word a very professional sound. 

“Master, I would like you to meet my second in command. Captain Rex, this is Jedi Master Obi-wan Kenobi. I was his apprentice for many years.”

“It is good to meet you, Captain. I trust my wayward padawan hasn’t managed to burn anything down yet, has he?”

“An honour, General Kenobi.” Rex pressed his lips together to prevent the laugh that threatened to break through his years of training a schooled expression.

“And likewise, this is Captain Cody, the leader of the 212th.”

“Good to meet you, Captain.”

“Now,” Obi-wan said, surveying the hangar, “should be begin our briefings?”

* * *

“I leave you for a month and you almost lose an eye.” Obi-wan stated flatly the minute the two men were alone in a corridor. Anakin winced.

“It’s not like that, master. Just ran in to the foul end of a stray blaster bolt, is all.”

“In that position? In that very position?”

“Hey! I  _ did _ try to duck.” Obi-wan lifted an unimpressed eyebrow.

“I believe that I taught you that to ‘duck’ means to put your head  _ down, _ not to impersonate a Nabooian bird, did I not?”

Anakin rubbed the back of his neck, face red.

“Yes, master.”

Obi-wan laughed, mostly to show that he did not mean offense with his clipped statement, but partially because he had missed the company of his friend. 

After spending years together, day to day, nearly always together, it was odd to not have his headstrong apprentice with him. Many times, he had barely caught himself from turning to share an inside joke with Anakin, only to remember at the last moment that the man wasn’t there. It made him deflate from the humour of the moment, but he resolved to keep track of those moments to share with Anakin once he had the time. 

“I’ve missed you, my old padawan.”

Anakin smiled, “I’ve missed you, too.”

“I sense there is something amiss in you,” Obi-wan’s tone was hushed as he looked over his shoulder at his taller friend.

“I… I don’t know what you mean,” Anakin stammered, face going pink as he struggled to make eye contact with the piercing blue eyes that stared up at him.

“You don’t know what I am implying, or you do not wish to tell me what is wrong?” Anakin sighed heavily, eyes dropping back down to the floor as they continued down the hallway.

“I don’t know,” he relented, “I feel like I don’t know anything.”

Obi-wan considered his words, carefully formulating a reply that died on his lips when he saw the truly distressed face on his padawan. 

“Would you like to try and talk about it?” he settled, deciding that letting Anakin do the talking would be more beneficial than trying to force his way through the man’s shields.

Anakin opened his mouth to respond, before shutting it.

_ I don’t know if I have the words. _ Anakin’s words echoed softly in their bond, the fear and confusion filtering through to help convey his meaning.

_ Meditation, then? _ Obi-wan suggested, making sure that the words were gentle, lacing them with comfort so that Anakin might understand his sincerity.

Obi-wan watched his friend bite the inside of his lip, mulling over the offer. 

Almost imperceptibly, Anakin nodded. Obi-wan tried not to let his relief flood through the bond, but he did let Anakin feel how grateful he was that he was even considering opening up to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter will centre around the meditation session, and hopefully, Anakin will start to open up to Obi-wan.  
> as always, please let me know what you think :)
> 
> stay safe kiddos,  
> xo spiders


	10. They know that it's almost over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anakin let's Obi-wan in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> song title from "Leave The City" - twenty one pilots
> 
> TW for implied sexual assault/non-con

Anakin didn’t notice he was shaking until they were seated on the floor of his quarters on board  _ The Resolute.  _ But once he did, it was all he noticed. The erratic beating of his heart, his too-shallow breaths he had struggled to make come at a normal pace. The nausea that burned behind his heart, threatening to become too much. His hand was clammy, fingers feeling heavy and clumsy.

“If you want, we don’t have to do this. But I do think it will help,” Obi-wan said quietly, face full of sympathetic concern.

Anakin shook his head, “No, I… I need to. This.” He fidgeted with his gloves, staring at Obi-wan’s knee, just a short distance from his.

“Do you need to anchor?” Obi-wan said, patiently waiting as Anakin hesitated to answer.

“Yeah, I think so,” he whispered. Obi-wan nodded, and then shifted so their knees were touching.

Anakin shuddered at the contact. He was almost overwhelmed, feeling like the touch at his knees was somehow blocking his lungs.

“You alright?” Obi-wan whispered, noticing Anakin’s posture stiffen.

“Yeah… it’s just, um, I’m not used to this.”

“What do you mean by ‘this’?” Obi-wan asked gently.

_ The whole contact thing. _

Obi-wan nodded. “Do you want me to back away?”

“No! No, sorry. No, I just--I need a second, sorry.”

“No need to apologise, take the time you need.”

Anakin was grateful for the allowance of time. He breathed out through his nose, heart tight in his chest. The nausea had faded, thankfully, but the hollow feeling remained. 

He rationalised the situation. It’s only knees, no hands. Obi-wan had asked if Anakin was comfortable several times. He could do this. He just needed to trust that Obi-wan would continue to ask. That he wouldn’t just go for it. For anything. That he would respect the distance Anakin wanted, that he wouldn’t get in his face, or take his hand without asking. That he would--

“Anakin, you’re panicking.” 

Anakin burst into laughter at the unintentional rhyme. The laugh was more nervous than genuine, and it betrayed his calm façade that he had so desperately been trying to maintain. He put his head in his hands, trying to take a steadying breath before the laughter could turn to tears. He succeeded after a minute, but it wasn’t a win. His chest ached, from what specifically, he didn’t know. 

_ Let me in, please… I want to help. _

He felt a gentle brush of emotion against his shields. 

Before he could change his mind and back out, he took a steep inhale, and tore his walls down.

Obi-wan could feel that Anakin had let him in, but he didn’t want to dig to try to understand his friend. 

_ Show me what you need to have me understand. I won’t look at anything you don’t want me to see.  _

Obi-wan sent a wave of calm across the bond, and while it normally felt like a long hallway connecting their two signatures, since Anakin had dropped his shields, it was as if Obi-wan was nearing a doorway at the end of that hallway, the door itself ajar.

He approached it slowly, noticing that the doorframe was crumbling as he drew closer. He stopped, standing directly in front of it.

_ When you’re ready, Anakin. _

The doorway collapsed, leaving Obi-wan blind, until he began to spectate a montague of memories. Anakin’s memories.

_ Anakin looked around eight. It couldn’t have been long before Obi-wan met him. _

_ In this, Anakin was sitting on the counter of what looked like a parts shop. He was repairing some sort of handheld navigation console. Behind him were a group of pilots, laughing loudly while drinking some sort of alcohol.  _

_ “Hey, kid,” one of them slurred. “Whaddya -- whaddya say you come work on my ship. Could be real nice, the engine’s a beauty.” he hiccupped. “I could pay ya real good,” he stumbled over to Anakin, who was trying to ignore him. “I could even throw in some extra money if you wanted to give some extra service.” _

_ The other pilots laughed, and Obi-wan could smell the cheap liquor that had tainted their morals.  _

_ “C’mon kid… you look like you could use the money.” they laughed again, Anakin desperately trying not to comment. The man got fed up of being ignored, and roughly grabbed Anakin’s face in his hand. _

_ “Hey, I was talkin’ to you, kid.” Anakin tried to twist his jaw out of the man’s grip, but failed. He refused to look him in the eye, instead staring defiantly at the ground. _

_ “Awe, you look scared,” the man’s tone went from a sneer to patronising. “You don’t need to be scared, kid. C’mon, it’ll be worth it.” _

_ The memory dissolved, just as Obi-wan came to the sickening realisation of what had happened, to later that day. Anakin was crouched at the bottom of a ‘fresher, crying, and scrubbing his skin so hard it had turned a sickly shade of red. _

_ The next memory started.  _

_ Anakin was older here, a Youngling. He was sitting to have a meal with the others in the Gundark Clan, laughing with some friends Obi-wan couldn’t name. One boy near Anakin cleared his throat, getting the Youngling’s attention. He motioned for Anakin to wait as he finished what was in his mouth. _

_ “You’re from Tatooine, right?” _

_ “I… yeah,” Anakin shifted. _

_ “What’s it like there?” at this point in the conversation, the surrounding children were also paying attention. _

_ “Um, it’s really dry. During the day, it’s super hot, but at night it’s freezing, but only for a little while.” _

_ “Yeah, we know that from the Archives. But what’s it  _ like?”

_ “I don’t, I don’t know what you mean.” One of the other Younglings near Anakin giggled, rolling their eyes. _

_ “Like, the people. The food, the culture. That sort of stuff. What was it like for you?” _

_ Obi-wan caught his breath, really concerned for Anakin’s reaction. His concern was warranted, as he felt Anakin’s pulse rise, and the boy became dizzy from the lack of oxygen his lungs scrambled to provide. _

_ “I, I don’t want to talk about it.” _

_ “Oh, come on Ani! Nobody else here was able to have a life before the Temple, you have to tell us!” _

_ “Yeah, Anakin!” _

_ “I… um. I’m sorry I just don’t want to, please.” _

_ The Younglings whined, squirming around, boxing Anakin in. They loudly protested his uncooperation, and Obi-wan could feel Anakin approaching a breaking point in his anxiety. _

_ “I was a slave!” he all but shouted. _

_ The chatter abruptly stopped. Some of the Younglings backed away. They were obviously ashamed of themselves, but Obi-wan noted that Anakin didn’t notice this. He felt, rather than saw, Anakin’s thoughts turn against him.  _

They don’t want to know you anymore. You had such a good thing going for you, and now they’ll want you to leave. They think you’re gross. You’ll never get a master now. You’ll be kicked back to Tatooine. 

_ Oh, Anakin, I’m so sorry. _

_ Obi-wan felt Anakin’s spike of sadness, but the memories didn’t stop. It was as if a floodgate had opened, and everything that Anakin had barely managed to keep hidden was now surging into the light. _

_ He saw Anakin, still a Youngling, in the Archives, researching into a subject, brow furrowed in concentration. Beneath the thoughts of how the subject worked, and Anakin working to commit every piece of information to memory, Obi-wan felt the embarrassed echo of shame from not knowing something in a lesson. He felt Anakin’s drive, the determination to be good enough so that nobody would ever leave him. So that nobody would ever doubt him. So that nobody would look at him like the Younglings did when they forced his admission.  _

_ He saw the Choosing Ceremony from Anakin’s point of view. He saw the eerily familiar line of Knights and Masters. He felt Anakin’s crushing anxiety. The tightness in his chest as he thought  _ please please please _ that he would be Chosen. _

_ He saw Anakin look at himself, Obi-wan, standing in the line. He felt the surge of apprehension, the barely-held-back tears. He felt Anakin’s very existence hang by the thread, that was this one moment. _

_ He felt Anakin’s need to be Chosen, but even more clearly, he felt the need for  _ Obi-wan _ to Chose him.  _

_ He saw himself say Anakin’s name, and he felt the utter euphoria Anakin experienced like a brick to his chest of just how  _ much _ it was.  _

_ He saw Anakin wake from a nightmare, he must have been fourteen or so, and the distress on his face. Anakin had risen, then cracked open his door, peering in at the main room. Obi-wan was asleep on the couch, having just returned from a mission off-planet. Anakin watched him for a moment, before moving to enter the room. But he stopped himself, and Obi-wan felt the embarrassment, the hesitance, the sorrow Anakin felt. He felt the reluctance to reach out to Obi-wan and admit he wasn’t alright. He felt the disgust Anakin felt at the notion of needing to get help. Anakin felt that asking for help made him weak. So, he turned his back and went back to bed. _

_ Anakin was much older now, indicating that this memory was more recent. He was waiting for something, lurking in the main hall of the Temple. He saw himself enter the Temple, this must have been after a second mission to Naboo that year. Obi-wan had walked through, nodding to Mace as he passed, clapping a hand to the Knight’s shoulder. He saw Anakin’s smile that could light up an entire system as he realised that Obi-wan had returned unharmed. He saw Anakin scramble to hide his elation, moving his features into a smile that was still brilliant, despite being a mere shard of what the first had been. Obi-wan saw himself notice Anakin, before giving him a nod, then moving to go to the Council to report his findings.  _

_ He winced as he felt the younger man deflate, disappointment resonating in his chest, echoing as guilt for having felt that he would have been the first person his Master had wanted to speak to, when it wasn’t the case.  _

_ He saw Anakin in a room, a sweeping window over Coruscant’s skyline. Anakin was on a couch, but Obi-wan couldn’t make out who was with Anakin, or where exactly he was, just that he was terrified. He felt a hand on Anakin’s knee, it moved up, and around his knee slowly, then hot breath on the side of his neck. He felt the utter dread and the  _ not again not again not again _ that haunted Anakin in that moment. Something -- a nose? -- pressed against Anakin’s ear, but though he could tell someone was talking, he felt the guilt in Anakin. Apparently, the person on the couch was offering him something he desired, but wanted to use Anakin, to lord it over him, to coerce him.  _

_ Obi-wan felt sick. Anakin was in his Alderaanian garb, and his stomach plummeted as he realised that  _ this _ was what had sent Anakin into such a shattered state that night.  _

_ Anakin’s shame, his humiliation at being used in such a way; his grief at having been put in that position. Most of all, he felt Anakin’s self loathing, his hatred at himself for not being able to move, to have this happen at all.  _

_ Then he was on Naboo. In a lakehouse he did not recognise. Padmé was with Anakin, in a striking black dress, a fire lit between them. Padmé had come closer to him, she told him that she desired him. He felt Anakin begin to panic, the ice that ran through his veins. He saw Padmé lean in to him, putting her lips on his. Anakin’s mind was scrambled. He pushed her away. She seemed quite upset. He saw her storm off, and Anakin remain shellshocked on the couch. Anakin couldn’t move, he was in disbelief that he had been in a situation like that yet again. He felt Anakin’s sorrow at having failed himself, that he hadn’t let the event that occurred at Tatooine be the only time it would happen. That it had continued. That it didn’t matter that he was a Jedi. He felt helpless when put into a situation like that.  _

_ He felt Anakin’s day to day skittishness around physical contact. He felt the anxiety he had being alone around  _ anyone _ he didn’t know very well. Even those that he did know well. He felt the humiliation Anakin held when looking in the mirror at his scarred face. The worry that gnawed at his insides every time he had to see Obi-wan. Because he was so very convinced he had let the man down.  _

_ Obi-wan felt his heart shatter. _

_ He felt Anakin’s pain as his arm was cut off, and as he was shoved backwards into Obi-wan’s legs that fateful day. He felt the crushing guilt, the feelings that Anakin had failed so miserably. That he would forever be scarred by his own failings. That he failed Obi-wan by allowing himself to be less than invincible.  _

_ Obi-wan moved to leave. The sheer intensity of Anakin’s emotions on a daily basis leaving him breathless. His chest ached with emotions. With the guilt that he had let Anakin down so badly that he would feel the need to bury whatever feelings he had, whatever problems he had, just to seem a perfect Jedi.  _

_ Obi-wan once again found himself facing the doorway. But now, all that remained of it was a piece of scrap metal, shaped into a fragile shield. Behind it, Anakin’s sorrowful eyes.  _

_ Obi-wan felt a tugging in his back, gently pulling him away from the door. He walked back through the hallway, and as he looked back, the scrap metal seemed to grow more feeble with every step he took. Soon enough, he couldn’t see it, and the tugging stopped.  _

Obi-wan gasped for air. 

Tears were streaming down his face, seeming to never stop. His chest ached like he had been sobbing for weeks. He felt dizzy but grounded, nauseous but comforted. 

He opened his eyes, and took in the face of his lost friend.

Anakin sat in front of him, just as he had left him. His eyes looked directly into Obi-wan’s, tired, empty. His face seemed gaunt, scar gleaming. His eyelashes were slightly clumped together, but the tears remained in his eyes. 

“May I,” Obi-wan cleared his throat, the words having come out beyond raspy, “May I touch you?”

Anakin shakily nodded. 

Obi-wan lifted his hand, resting it on Anakin’s shoulder. Anakin’s eyes dropped as his shoulders shook with stifled sobs. Obi-wan lifted his other hand, putting it on that shoulder as well. Every fiber of his being ached at the sight. How he had let his padawan, his  _ friend, _ suffer for so long, without noticing… he was at a loss for words. 

“I have failed you, Anakin,” Obi-wan whispered, “And I am so, very sorry.”

Anakin gasped for air, sobs becoming audible. His hand lifted to his face to cover his mouth. Obi-wan pulled Anakin to him, lightly, in case Anakin refused, and when Anakin leaned into him, he pulled the man to his chest. He settled his chin on Anakin’s head, wrapping his arms around him. His eyes stung as Anakin’s hands bunched the fabric of his tunic, pressing his face into the man’s chest. 

_ I am so, so sorry. _

Anakin shifted his face to the side, so that he could breathe. 

“Thank you,” he whispered, words sounding as if they were half-torn from his chest from the weight of the emotion. 

“Thank you for trusting me, Anakin.” Obi-wan murmured, pressing his lips to the top of Anakin’s head, then shifting so his cheek rested on the spot. 

They stayed like that for an hour. By that time, Anakin had fallen asleep. Obi-wan had held the man tightly as his sobs had evened out into shaky breaths. He waited patiently as Anakin unfolded his legs, then had shifted so he was almost curled in Obi-wan’s lap, back perpendicular to the man’s chest. Obi-wan slipped into a light meditation so that he might rest as well as stay awake enough should his friend have another nightmare. 

He considered his position. He knew that Anakin needed time to figure himself out, but he also knew that the Grand Master had alerted the Council to the need for assigning Padawans, given the rapidly escalating state of war. He hoped, quietly, that Anakin would be given a Padawan. He knew it would help him process things, and it could help with his feelings of being unwanted, or constantly neglected. Obi-wan felt a stab of guilt at the thought, remembering the vision of Anakin standing, lost, after Obi-wan had chosen to go to the Council instead of his Padawan. 

Sighing, Obi-wan glanced over to where Anakin’s bed was, maybe a metre away. Silently laughing at himself for proving his statement that the force should not be used improperly situational, once again, he nudged back the covers on Anakin’s bed. Then, he gathered the force to him, and lifted Anakin up, rising with him, so that Anakin wouldn’t shift his position. Carrying the man over to the bed, Obi-wan fought the urge to brush the hair from his face. 

Once Anakin was settled, he pulled the covers over him, using his hands this time, and made sure he would stay warm. He felt the itch again to reach out, tuck the strand of hair behind the man’s ear. 

He knew Anakin had consented to the comfort earlier, but he didn’t want to infringe on his peace of mind. 

Obi-wan settled himself on the cot on the other side of the room, glancing one more time to his sleeping friend before allowing himself to drift off, chest to the ceiling. 

He felt lighter.

  
  


Anakin woke up, feeling for the first time in years that he had slept properly. 

The first thing he noticed besides that was that he couldn’t remember how he got into his bed. Or why he was sleeping in his robes, and not just his tunic and pants. He blinked a few times to clear his vision. 

The timepiece on his wall read 0532. He sighed contentedly. Normally he was awake by 0600, but now he had some time to just stay where he was, and allow himself to wake up properly. He wasn’t needed yet until 0700. He vaguely remembered that Rex set up a meeting then so that he could go over the situation on Christophsis. 

Anakin was abruptly pulled out of his musings, alert. He could hear something. Something that wasn’t him in his room.

Lifting himself up, he glanced around his room. His eyes landed on the cot he had set up in the corner, meaning to have asked Obi-wan if he’d like to share quarters when they were together on  _ The Resolute. _ Blinking again, he noticed that it was occupied, by Obi-wan himself. Anakin felt the anxiety leave his chest, allowing himself to relax once more. His hands slipped under the pillow to support his chin as he looked at the man. Obi-wan slept on his back, he noted. Anakin wondered if it was comfortable, he hadn’t ever managed to sleep on his back, preferring his side or stomach. The light of the timepiece cast a faint blue-white glow that made the man look ethereal. He seemed so at peace. Anakin noticed the soft rise and fall of Obi-wan’s chest. How the man’s eyelashes seemed to barely brush his cheekbones.

He’s beautiful. 

Anakin’s eyes went wide as he processed his thought. 

He decided he would ignore it. At all costs. 

He had already bared his soul enough for a day. 

Anakin wanted to turn his head, so he wouldn’t have to think about it anymore. But he didn’t really want to that much.

So, he faded back into a restful sleep, the face of his friend, so peaceful in sleep, grounded him, making him feel more welcome in his own skin than he had in months. It was as if nothing really mattered. And since Obi-wan was asleep, Anakin could savour the moment, not needing to feel worried about his own less-than-pleasant appearance. 

_ Beautiful. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this broke 100 kudos and i literally like... wow  
> you guys are fantastic, and i am THRIVING on the positive attention
> 
> hope this was handled well, i know some of you wanted anakin to finally open up, and while i agree, i feel that he would still have softened the blows by hiding some details
> 
> also, looks like someone's starting to understand something ( ͡• ͜ʖ ͡• )
> 
> stay safe lovies  
> xoxo spiders


	11. The middle of adventure, such a perfect place to start

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ahsoka is here!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here for the "Anakin Skywalker Deserves Happiness" team  
> also! i felt bad that it's only a side pairing, but Kit Fisto and Plo Koon are criminally underrated.
> 
> song title from "505" - Arctic Monkeys

Enter Ahsoka. 

The bubbly twelve year old had initially annoyed Anakin to no end, but mostly because she reminded him of himself in his better moments. He felt awful when he had demanded to know why  _ he _ of all people was given a Padawan. It reminded him harshly of all the time he had spent worrying that he wouldn’t be good enough to earn the rank of Padawan; he felt even worse when he had snapped at her wanting to know about Tatooine. He was still emotionally raw from the meditation with Obi-wan a week ago, and had to focus harder than he was used to in order to keep his shields up when he wasn’t alone, or with Obi-wan. 

He had almost immediately given her the nickname Snips because of her blunt remarks and wit. Anakin had to admit that she was pretty talented: she fought predominantly with a reverse-grip on her lightsabre, and her agility made her potential to handle a second sabre impressive. It had barely been four standard rotations since he had known her, and he was constantly on edge, and he felt like he was being stared at every time he walked into a room. 

He tried to relax. He really did. But having a Padawan practically thrown at him in the middle of a war made relaxation not come easily. He had made a Training Bond with Ahsoka when they had gotten back to the ship, but it wasn’t anywhere near to the degree of the bond he still shared with Obi-wan. He felt slightly guilty about this, but then, Ahsoka hadn’t wanted to have a full bond in the first place. She cited her need for ‘early independence’ as a reason, so their bond was only present when they were both actively focusing on it. Which Anakin found as a relief.

Before they had headed back to the  _ Resolute _ following their meeting with the Hutts, Anakin had found a market stand and beckoned Ahsoka over, holding two mysterious jugs.

“Uhh… whatcha got there, Skyguy?” Ahsoka looked skeptically at the opaque jars. 

“Just try it,” he smirked down at her.

“How do I know this isn’t some force-forsaken plot to knock me off while you still have the chance?” Ahsoka snipped, squinting at Anakin. He sighed, rolling his eyes with exasperation.

“You said you wanted to know more about me, yeah?”

“Yeah, what do they got to do with it, though?”

“It’s a childhood favourite. Now, c’mon.”

Ahsoka accepted one of the jugs, and waited until after Anakin had taken a sip before lifting it to her face, giving it a sniff. It was some kind of liquid, and it smelled almost nutty. It seemed a bit on the cooler side, so she decided to try it. The dehydration was starting to get to her, and she had been running for the better part of the day.

Sipping it, she decided that it was beyond weird, but strangely addicting.

“What  _ is _ this stuff?”

Anakin laughed. 

“A product of a friend over there-” he pointed at a pen behind a stall Ahsoka hadn’t seen, “but  _ much _ cooler than I had ever had it.”

“The old lady makes the milk.” Anakin threw his head back and laughed, loudly.

“No, the bantha made it.”

“Bantha?!”

Anakin jerked his head, motioning for her to follow him. He walked over to the pen, and in the dark, Ahsoka could make out an enormous shape a few metres away. Also, large horns.

“Um… I know bantha’s are herbivores, but  _ why _ are they so big?!”   
“More room for milk,”

“You’re weird, master.”

“Thanks, kiddo.”

Ahsoka punched his arm lightly, but continued sipping at the milk Anakin gave her. 

“It’s actually… not that bad,”

“You’ve never had it before?”

“Have you  _ ever _ seen it in the Temple cafeteria?”

Anakin laughed, shaking his head. Now he thought of it, the only places he’s had it were either Tatooine or in Ryth’s cafe. 

“It’s much better as an additive, but fresh isn’t so bad. When it’s warm, though… it’s despicable.”

“How so?”

“War-crime level despicable.”

“When it’s hot?”

“It’s good again. There’s a healthy temperature window between “cool”, and “hot”, where it’s disgusting. It tastes old and flakey at that point.”

“Milk tasting… flakey? Are you having a stroke?”

“You’ll know  _ exactly _ what I mean one day, Snips.”

Ahsoka giggled. She knew that the General Skywalker was an unconventional Jedi, but  _ force _ was he not what she was expecting. She decided that, like the bantha milk, maybe he wasn’t so bad.

Anakin landed on his bed ungracefully. He may as well have taken a running leap and then landed on his chest for how high he bounced from the impact.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you looked tired.” Obi-wan laughed from the cot he was sitting on, reading a holopad. 

Anakin flipped him a rude gesture, not looking up from where his face was slammed into the pillow below him.

“That bad, huh?” Anakin groaned.

“She has  _ so much energy. _ How in the Sith’s hells you managed to deal with me for  _ years _ is beyond impressive.” his voice was muffled, but Obi-wan still laughed quietly, agreeing. 

“Is that an apology, I sense, my old Padawan?”

“Give me a few more weeks. Or even days--”

A knock sounded at the door.

“-- or hours.” he finished with a groan, rolling off of the bed to answer the door.

“Hey Master! We’re neighbours! Did you know?” she bounced on the balls of her feet excitedly. Obi-wan smiled in spite of himself, because  _ force _ she reminded him of Anakin when he was her age.

“Yeah, Snips, it’s pretty regular to have adjoined quarters. Like right now, Obi-wan has taken it upon himself to crash in my room, because  _ someone _ managed to have his  _ own _ quarters blown up over Christophsis.” Obi-wan scoffed at that.

“It was a  _ federation ship, _ my young friend. I had no choice but to burden you with my glorious presence.”

“Wait-” Ahsoka interjected,  _ “‘young’  _ friend? Isn’t Anakin like your age?”

Anakin his his laugh in his shoulder as Obi-wan looked accusingly at him.

“We are  _ five _ years apart, at least, at most  _ six, _ but I’d hardly call him close to my age when his childish antics put my superiority at stake,” he sniffed indignantly.

“Isn’t that  _ exactly _ why you grew the beard, master?” Anakin batted his eyes innocently at Obi-wan as he glared at the younger man. Ahsoka rolled her eyes from the doorway.

“You two bicker like a married couple,” she laughed.

“Oh please,” Obi-wan let out a laugh, “we’d kill each other.” Anakin bristled at that, but recovered quickly.

“Yeah, the galaxy wouldn’t be able to handle the combined sass. One of us would have to go.”

Ahsoka giggled, “I’ll leave you two to figure it out. Rex could use some bothering about now.” she waved as she left the door, it closing behind her.

“I like her,” Obi-wan hummed. “She reminds me of you.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” Anakin flopped unceremoniously back onto the bed. 

“Are you alright?” Obi-wan said, looking up from his holopad. Anakin shrugged, but given that he was laying on his chest, it just looked like he was trying to squirm into his pillow.

“I know you well enough to know that your absence of a verbal answer is an indication of a ‘no’, so in that case, do you want to talk about it?”

Anakin shrugged again. Obi-wan sighed, putting his holopad on the shelf near the cot.

“Anakin,” he said flatly.

“Obi-wan,” Anakin parroted his tone, but the muffling of his words made him sound like a dying animal.

Anakin did  _ not _ want to do this right now. He was still very aware of his revelation about the man, and he didn’t want to do anything about it, acting on it or preemptively dissuading it. He so badly wanted to shut him out for good, but he also ached to ask for a hug. 

“What were you reading about? You seemed really engrossed in it,” Anakin changed the subject before he could do something he’d regret. He turned so his face was to the man, but kept his shoulders to the mattress.

“Hm? Oh, just a report from the Council. Masters Koon and Fisto’s request for a Union went through with unanimous support.”

Anakin’s eyes went wide.

“That’s a thing?” Obi-wan rolled his eyes.

“You know damn well as I do that they had been courting for years, my naïve friend.”

“No no, not that. I just didn’t know that the Council was allowed to announce those… matters. I thought they had been trying to keep it secret, but doing poorly at it.” 

“Well, they aren’t able to reproduce, so it was passed,” Anakin looked at him questioningly, propping himself up on his forearms so that he was able to fully pay attention.

“The midi chlorian count that could result from two force-users… procreating… could lead to exceptionally powerful offspring. Celibacy is the common misconception about the Jedi Order, but it’s really just a precaution. It’s an echo of a marriage, but on the agreement that the individual, or individuals, that a Jedi chooses to share their life with will never put the lives of their partners above the oath to peace.”

“So… they’re recognised as partners-”

“- in the force,”

“ … in the force, but they put the balance of the force above their union, and the callings of the Order above their vows to each other?”

“Something like that, personally, I do not know much about it. It’s more of a private matter, but to simplify it, it’s them agreeing that their devotion to each other is as powerful as their devotion to the Order.”

Anakin stared at his pillow as he considered Obi-wan’s words. 

“Do Jedi form Unions with non-Jedi?”

“I’m afraid not, it’s more of a ‘within the Order or not at all’ deal.”

Anakin hummed, thinking. 

“Anyways, how are you liking Cody? Rex and I get along pretty well, not to brag, but, yeah.”

Obi-wan’s eyes narrowed, noting the abrupt change in subject, but he let it go.

“Cody and I get along fine, but we do not have the shared ground of an overeager Padawan bouncing off the walls.”

Anakin laughed, and let Obi-wan go back to his readings. 

* * *

“What. Do. You.  _ Mean?”  _ he hissed at the hologram.

“I mean, my lord, that he has been  _ unavailable _ due to the  _ war going on _ right now.”

“So you haven’t bothered to message him? At all?”

“The time for that to happen hasn’t approached yet. I  _ need _ more time. This doesn’t happen quickly, and he is fairly shy at these things.”

The Sith ground his nails into the table, taking out chunks of the stone in the pattern of his claws. His eyes flashed gold. 

“Do I need,” he seethed, “to find a replacement.”

“No! My lord, I am getting closer to him. He just needs to reciprocate. I have made my feelings clear to him.”

The Sith sat back in his chair.

“Good. Because once he is bereft of you, it will  _ break him.” _

* * *

“Back to Coruscant already?” Ahsoka asked, catching up to her taller master.

“Yep.”

“But don’t we need to get back to the  _ Resolute? _ Don’t Rex and the boys need us?” Anakin laughed.

“You know, Snips, they  _ are _ allowed to get a break every now and again. Plus, it’s just two weeks. Then we’re off again, you don’t need to worry.”

“But master,” she whined, “the Archive studies are so  _ boring  _ compared to the front!” 

Anakin put his hand on her head and gave it a tiny shove.

“Patience, my young Padawan, you’ll soon learn that knowledge of one’s galaxy is equally as important as knowledge gained in the field.” 

Ahsoka stuck her tongue out at him, “You sound like Master Windu.”

Anakin smirked, “Damn right, I do. You don’t seriously think that the years I spent training under both him and Master Kenobi would have left me only sounding like Obi-wan, did you?”

Ahsoka’s eyes widened, “You got to have two masters?!”

“I was an… unusual circumstance. Obi-wan was barely sixteen when he got me as a Padawan, so Master Windu was an informal second. He’s basically my father figure.”

“Oh, like how you’re an annoying older brother, and Master Plo’s  _ my _ father figure?”

“Yeah, except I’m not annoying, that’s you, Snips.” she stuck her tongue out at him again.

“Case in point.” he added with a laugh. 

“Speaking of your dad…” Ahsoka punched his arm, “looks like he’s waiting for us at the landing pad.”

Ahsoka bounded over to the viewport, and just as Anakin said, there was Plo Koon and a few other Jedi waiting at the landing pad. She light up with excitement, not having seen him in months, as he was off-world before she was named Anakin’s apprentice. She had initially wished she could have been assigned to Plo, but he wasn’t taking apprentices at the time being. Plus, Anakin was starting to grow on her.

She couldn’t stay still as she waited for the shuttle to land. As soon as it did, she shot out of it and thundered down the ramp, throwing her arms around the Kol Dor when she reached him.

“Hello, little Ahsoka,” the man said, voice tinged with a laugh, “how was your first mission?”

“It went pretty well! I was assigned to Master Skywalker, do you know him?”

“I do, little one. Although, not as well as others. There is, however, someone I would like for you to meet.”

“Who is it Master Plo?” Ahsoka beamed up at him, her arms still glued to the man.

From next to Plo, a green Nautolan stepped forwards, shy smile on their face.

“Hello, Ahsoka. I am Kit Fisto,”

Ahsoka smiled up at Kit, letting go of Plo with one arm to shake the proffered hand.

“Hello, Master Fisto. I’m Ahsoka Tano, Padawan to Knight Skywalker.” Kit smiled at that.

“It is good to meet you, Ahsoka. I have heard much about you, and Knight Skywalker is a very good friend of mine, I hope you two will get along.”

“Ahsoka, you’re crushing me,” Plo laughed, putting a hand on Ahsoka’s shoulder from his free side.

“Oh! Sorry Master Plo!” she backed away, grinning sheepishly.

“It is alright, little one. I figured that since you have been a bright spot in my life, you would like to meet Kit, another.”

Ahsoka’s smile grew even wider, eyes sparking, “Congratulations, Master Plo, I’m very happy for you. There is  _ one  _ question, however,” she said, eyeing Kit from where he stood just behind Plo’s shoulder, “what colour is your lightsabre?”

“Green,” the man smirked, practically glowing with amusement. “And yours?”

Ahsoka looked sharply up at Plo Koon. “I approve,” she said, nodding her head in a feigned haughtiness. “Mine too!” she beamed at Kit.

“Ahsoka!” Anakin called from the base of the shuttle, “Your bags won’t carry themselves!”

Ahsoka’s face went pink, ducking her head in slight embarassment. 

“It was nice to meet you, Master Fisto, I’ll see you two later if I can!” she bounded off to Skywalker, picking up her bags from where he had deposited them at the bottom of the ramp.

“She’s full of energy, isn’t she?” Kit observed, wrapping an arm around the man next to him.

“That she is,” Plo laughed, leaning into the touch.

Anakin was approached by Mace as he got to the Temple, looking forward to a  _ restful _ night in his own bed. Where he wouldn’t be stranded awake at times, just listening to the engine of the  _ Resolute _ as it purred in hyperspace. Not that he minded the white noise, nor thought the clones incapable, but he just preferred being in control of the ship when he could.

“So, how’s the teaching life treating you?” Mace welcomed him, smirking at the exhausted slump of Anakin’s shoulders.

“How you managed to raise me  _ and _ Obi-wan without either of us burning the Temple down, I will have  _ no _ idea.”

Mace laughed, clapping the man on the back.

“It’s good to have you home, kid. Caf on me?”

“You have good ideas, Master Windu.” Anakin laughed, leaning into Mace’s shoulder in a half-hug.

“Did you hear about the Union of Masters Koon and Fisto?”

“I did,” Anakin beamed, “I am very happy that it was passed unanimously.”

“As am I, apparently they had been courting for years, could you believe it?” Mace said, sounding somewhat in awe. Anakin burst into laughter.

“What’s so funny?” Mace laughing slightly himself, very confused as to the man’s response.

“You didn’t know?”

“What? They had been very secretive!” Anakin borderline cackled.

“In  _ what galaxy _ would you define them as ‘secretive’?”

“Well excuse me if I didn’t spend the majority of my time as a Youngling curled up in Fisto’s lap,” Mace relented, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Anakin smiled, tongue between his teeth, “you’re still buying me caf, there’s no getting out of it now.”

Mace mocked offense. “When have I  _ ever _ tried to get out of it?”

Anakin fixed him with a deadpan stare.

“Well, there was the time before Obi-wan got back from his off-planet helping the resistance-”

“- I had somewhere to be -”

“- and the time before that when you had to dash out quickly because-”

“Alright, alright! Point taken, Skywalker.”

They arrived at their usual cafe an hour later, Mace insisting on flying so they “didn’t miss it four times” before finding the lot. Anakin had rolled his eyes at that, but relented when he was able to tease Mace every second of the journey, annoying him so much that he demanded Anakin fly them back so he could return the favour.

* * *

Ahsoka bumped into Obi-wan in the Archives a day after they had gotten back.

“Master Kenobi!” she greeted, waving at him.

“Hello, Padawan, how are your studies?” He waved back, walking over to her so they would avoid any more glares from the Archive master.

“They’re… going, I guess,” she said, huffing a sigh.

“That bad, huh?”

“I just… I learned about this before a year ago! Why do I need to re-learn it?” she threw her hands up in defeat, the holopad thudding onto the desk.

A loud  _ shh! _ from the other side of the Archives made Ahsoka go red, meekly raising a hand in apologies.

“You know,” Obi-wan said, sliding into the chair next to her, “I wasn’t always the best at this stuff, myself.”

“Really?” Ahsoka’s eyes widened. “But, you’re  _ the Negotiator, _ I thought this was where you excelled!”

“Far from it,” Obi-wan laughed softly, “Your master was better at it than I was.”

“Master  _ Skywalker?” _ she said incredulously, “are you sure we’re talking about the same person?”

“Yes, young Padawan, he was determined to drive me up the walls with his late hours down here, but I can understand your frustration. It took me until I was in my thirties to understand the fine art of learning to appreciate learning.”

Ahsoka mouthed the ‘early thirties’ as she tried to understand what was wrong with the statement.

“Hold on, you’re like, what, twenty eight?”

“Try twenty four,” Obi-wan smiled bashfully, “but don’t go telling people that.”

“Wow,” Ahsoka breathed, “but you look so  _ old.” _

“Only because people like you make me feel old.” Obi-wan bit back with a laugh. Ahsoka grinned cheekily in response.

“So… uh, do you know anything about ‘the Significance of Mandalorian Architecture, Volume Three’?”

“Oh force no, that sounds  _ dreadful. _ When is it due?”

“Two days from now, but it’s tentative.”

“Let’s go get a bite to eat, maybe some food will help you think more clearly.”

“But the cafeteria here is always open, I could just try to work for a few more hours and eat later--”

“Who said the cafeteria?” Obi-wan’s eyes sparkled mischievously. Ahsoka’s jaw dropped.

“You mean… out of the Temple?” Obi-wan nodded.

“I’ve never really been out of the Temple for food.”

“Really?” Obi-wan said, “that’s a pity. A good friend of mine owns the best diner on the planet. There are fourteen things on the menu, so there has to be something you’ll like. Do you like fried pancakes?”

“Fried… whats?” 

Obi-wan slammed his hands on the desk. “Okay, new assignment. Come with me, young Jedi.”

Obi-wan didn’t have the patience to look sorry for the noise, just swept up Ahsoka’s holopad as leverage, her skipping behind him, suddenly  _ very _ hungry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may or may not have gotten so carried away with the utter joy writing Ahsoka brings me that i pushed off more angst, so you'll get that later.
> 
> pleasseee let me know what your thoughts are! i LOVE hearing from everybody!  
> and HOLY SHIT?!?!??! 111 KUDOS??????  
> you guys make my days brighter
> 
> yours faithfully.  
> spiders xo


	12. I built these walls to watch them crumbling down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for every up, there must be a down.  
> and anakin had had one hell of an 'up'.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from "Lost It All" by Black Veil Brides (saw them live, literally life changing. check the song out, it's really impactful)
> 
> here's ya angst

“Obi- _ Wan!” _ The Besalisk called, raspy voice more comforting than threatening. 

“Hullo, Dex,” Obi-wan smiled, Ahsoka looking at him questioningly.

Dex walked over to where they were, and pulled Obi-wan into a tight hug with three of his arms. The forth, Ahsoka noted, pulled up his pants, using Obi-wan as a distraction so that he may do so. She laughed into her hand.

“And who’s this?” he asked, kind eyes looking down at the small Togruta, releasing his multi-armed grip on Obi-wan to peer over his shoulder.

“Ah, Dex, this is my… Padawan’s Padawan,” he indicated for Ahsoka to introduce herself.

“I’m Ahsoka Tano, it’s nice to meet you! Obi-wan says you have the best diner on the planet.”

The man laughed, clutching his stomach with two arms, wiping at his eyes with a third.

“I do hope your intentions are good, Obi-wan, I like the way you talk,” he laughed, then extended a massive hand to Ahsoka, “Dexter Jettster, call me Dex.” 

Ahsoka’s hand was barely the size of his palm, and she laughed more when she shook his hand, her hand all but disappearing in his gentle grip.

“Now… what can I get for ya?” Dex looked at Kenobi.

“How about… two number tens, a B-8, and an A-3?”

Ahsoka looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to tell her what the numbers meant, but got no such information, only a small laugh from Dex, who shook his head knowingly.

“Shoulda known to just start it when you walked in,” he smiled, turning back to go to the kitchen.

Obi-wan showed Ahsoka to a small booth with a view of the diner. She bounced onto the seat while Obi-wan slid into his side of the booth.

“So tell me, how has it been at the Temple now that you’ve been in the field?” Obi-wan laced his fingers together, leaning in.

_ “Force, _ I don’t think I’ve ever been so bored! It’s been a day and I’m going stir crazy! I slept in a  _ bed _ last night! It felt so weird,” she gushed, throwing her hands up. Obi-wan bit back a laugh.

“I know the feeling,” his eyes crinkled in amusement, “sometimes I wake up and I can’t remember immediately if I’m on a ship or not.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. I remember one time, Anakin had casually mentioned he opened a window, and he couldn’t figure out why I was so alarmed. Then I realised we were on the surface, and  _ not _ in a ship. The beds were just deceptively familiar.”

“It’s really interesting, though, how the beds feel,” Obi-wan nodded, “like… they’re comfortable, but don’t feel anything like a normal bed. But the sleep I got was  _ amazing _ so I’m not complaining.”

“Yes, I do believe that the process for making bunks was specifically so they would encourage more efficient rest for bipeds or humanoid species.”

Ahsoka nodded, considering. She lost her train of thought quite spectacularly when she saw the serving droid, FLO, carrying a platter with their orders. 

“Thanks, love,” Obi-wan grinned at the droid as she distributed their food, she tossed a casual ‘good to see you, honey!’ over her shoulder as she wheeled away to attend to the newcomers at the door.

Ahsoka looked down at the plate in front of her. What seemed to be a stack of three breadlike circles sat on the plate, surrounded by some berries she was familiar with. She also noticed that a tall drink in a glass had been set at her place, full of a pale coloured liquid, frost decorating the side of the glass.

“What is it?” Ahsoka inquired, looking up at Obi-wan, who was making work of using a fork and knife to cut through the stack on his plate. 

“They’re good, trust me,” he said, winking at her as he bit into his food.

Here goes nothing, Ahsoka thought, using the side of her fork to cut into the cakes, which were spongy looking, with a crispy surface. It smelled divine.

Her eyes nearly shot out of her head when she took a bite. It was like nothing she had ever tried before. Far,  _ far, _ away from the nutrient-centred foods served at the Temple. It was sweet, but just enough that she could continue to eat, and also strangely rich and filling, too. 

“What,” she said, clearing her throat, “what  _ is _ this stuff? It’s  _ amazing!” _

Obi-wan laughed, waiting until he had no food in his mouth before answering. “It’s called a pancake. Except, the way Dex makes them, he fries them lightly before serving them. Try your drink,” he smiled, returning to his food. Ahsoka nodded enthusiastically, impatiently waiting to finish what she had shoveled into her mouth before reaching for it.

“It’s cold!” she yelped, having forgotten about the frost, the warmth of the pancakes  _ very _ different from the viscus icy drink. But it was very sweet, and tasted somewhat familiar. 

“What is it? I like it a  _ lot.” _ she drank more of it from the straw provided. 

“It’s called a milkshake.”

“It has milk?” Ahsoka said, bewildered at the amount of time it took her to figure it out.

“Partially. It has ice cream, which is milk-based, but they also have different variations to suit the diets of others.”

“But, what’s the flavour? The bantha milk I tried on Tatooine with Anakin tasted really different from this.” Obi-wan laughed, ducking his head.

“It’s chocolate, imported from the Jungle Moons where the bean grows.”

“Well, it’s my favourite thing now.” Ahsoka started consuming the milkshake at an alarming rate.

“Wait, you might not want to-”

“AGH! My head!” Ahsoka clapped a hand to her forehead, and Obi-wan had to fight his laughter before answering.

“Brain freeze. Press your tongue to the soft palate of your mouth, it’ll help.”

Ahsoka stilled, face furrowed in concentration.

“That was painful,” Obi-wan nodded, grinning. It didn’t stop Ahsoka from alternating between the pancakes and shake for the rest of the meal.

* * *

Anakin sat on the meditation mat in his room. 

_ Actually _ attempting to meditate.

He had quite a few things he needed to figure out. Like his current situation. To put it lightly, Anakin was keenly aware that he was beginning to feel the starvation in the wake of the easy hugs he shared with Obi-wan. He had abstained from contact with others of such a nature for  _ so long _ that he had shut out all of the relief they provided him. He hadn’t slept better than when he fell asleep next to Obi-wan, and he never calmed so easily as he did when arms were around his waist, his shoulders. He wanted to know what it was like to let someone into his heart voluntarily. He wanted to enjoy physical couplings, he wanted to have at least  _ one _ positive experience of the nature, so that he may put the haunting unwanted caresses behind him and be done with it. 

His mind drifted to warm blue eyes, to strong arms and the feeling of safety. 

Making a split decision, he leapt off the mat and ran for the speeder lot. 

As the wind whipped past his face, he pondered if this was what he really wanted. If he could manage to piece himself back together enough to seem desirable. He had attempted to sort out his hair, but as soon as he hopped into the speeder, all hopes of his hair cooperating were abandoned. His heart rate picked up as he thought about what he was going to do, but he felt more excited than scared. Checking the timepiece on the speeder’s display, he felt a tinge of satisfaction that he was on time. 

He sat in his speeder until he was certain Ryth was on break, before nimbly jumping over the side of it onto the pavement of the lot. 

Ryth had his back to the window, in the process of making an absurdly complicated caf for the fussy woman at the counter. He sighed to himself as he prepared the last few ingredients. Just as he was completing his task, he heard the tone of the door opening, alerting him to another customer. He inhaled slowly, jerking his head minutely to the side.  _ One more, _ he thought. Lifting his eyes, he smiled, turning to give the woman her caf. She all but purred her thanks, tipping him heavily before walking out the door. 

“Anakin?” Ryth said, surprised, smile becoming genuine as he laid eyes on the handsome Knight across the counter from him.

“Hey, Ryth, hope I didn’t catch you at the end of your break,” he smirked, eyes sparkling with mirth.

“No, actually,” Ryth smiled bashfully, “Just at the beginning. Can I,” his throat went dry, the light from outside golden, catching the man’s skin, making it look like gentle fire. He cleared his throat, “Usual?” he indicated the caf machine behind him. Anakin nodded. Ryth used the opportunity to turn around quickly, feeling his face grow hot. He let his hands go through the motions, letting his mind wander, but not too much. 

Ryth had found himself noticing every one of Anakin’s movements, he couldn’t look away when he was in the room. The way his eyes lit up when he was talking about his passions for flying, or in his retelling of adventures he had on other worlds Ryth could only  _ dream _ of visiting. He didn’t know if Anakin would  _ ever _ look at him in the way that Ryth looked at him, but a guy could dream. 

Kriff, he finished the caf. 

Busying his hands with pushing the foam around so that it made a flower of sorts -- he had started shifting the shapes he’d draw when he saw that Anakin found them adorable -- he turned, grabbing the extra he had made himself, and made to walk around the counter.

Anakin opened his mouth to speak, but Ryth beat him to it.

“Nope! It’s on me today.”

“Ryth, I can -”

“Uh uh. Did you see how much the woman in front of you tipped? She basically paid for four extra cafs. So, if it bothers you that much, pretend she bought your drink,” he smirked, glancing at a booth in a silent question. Anakin smiled in return, sliding into the booth across from him. Ryth slid him his caf, and the Jedi nodded in thanks, smiling at the flower before taking a tentative sip. 

Ryth scrambled to sip his own caf so that Anakin could initiate the conversation. He wasn’t going to trust himself not to blurt out whatever wandered into his mind, the time he went without seeing Anakin made him adore his presence even more.

Anakin fidgeted as he stared at the table, sipping at the caf. It was excellent today, and the floral design Ryth had painted into the foam was beautiful.

“How has your day been?” Anakin prompted, looking into the Twi’lek’s eyes. 

“It’s been slower than usual, but I’m not complaining. Especially since I was able to sit down for a  _ full _ five minutes earlier!” Ryth dramatically widened his eyes, mouth slightly agape. Anakin laughed.

“Five minutes, huh? That beats last month’s record of three, congratulations.” he smirked, raising his caf in a toast to Ryth, who mock-bowed, tipping his caf back at Anakin.

“And how was yours?” Ryth asked, eyes sparkling as he held his cup with both hands, breathing the aroma.

“Oh it was alright enough,” Anakin said airily, sounding slightly elusive. He raised an eyebrow at the Jedi, waiting for more details.

“I’m on leave here for at least another week, so I was looking forward to coming over and taking your time.” Anakin smiled, air of bravado slinking away, the surprising genuineness of his statement making both men blush lightly. The silence that followed was not uncomfortable, despite the confession. 

Ryth felt slightly bolder, heart racing, as he looked at the Jedi. 

“Anakin…” he trailed off, becoming nervous, wanting to take his word back as soon as it left his lips.

“Hmm?” Anakin looked up at him. Ryth shook his head, forcing a smile.

“Nothing, nevermind.”

Anakin raised an eyebrow, but didn’t push it. 

They sat in silence for a few more moments, Ryth the only one aware of the emotional tension between the two. Or, at the least, Ryth’s emotional tension when around the man. 

He focused on stilling his rapidly increasing heartbeat.  _ Kriff it, _ he thought.

“Anakin?” the Jedi looked back at him, face inviting.

“Um,” he looked to the table between them, tracing a scratch in the metal, “canIkissyou?” he rushed, face now uncomfortably hot. His eyes widened, in slight disbelief that he actually said that out loud to  _ Anakin Kriffing Skywalker. _

“Hey,” Anakin said, tilting his head so that it was in Ryth’s line of sight. Ryth worried his lip as he tentatively met his eyes.

Anakin was smiling, eyes bright. 

He put two fingers under Ryth’s chin, and brought the Twi’lek’s face closer to his own. Ryth’s eyes fluttered shut of their own accord.

“Thank you for asking,” Anakin breathed, Ryth shivered as the words ghosted across his own lips. 

Anakin closed the distance,his lips pressing gently around Ryth’s upper lip. Matters were slightly complicated as Ryth began to smile, making the kiss more of an affectionate brush of the lips rather than a kiss at that point. 

After a few moments, Anakin pulled back slowly, eyes searching Ryth’s now-open ones.

“Hi,” Ryth said, giddy and breathless.

“Hi,” Anakin returned, smiling.

The moment was broken as a beeping came from the kitchen. 

Ryth drew back with a frown. 

“TY2?” he called for the server droid. There was no response. 

He rolled his eyes, smiling as he pressed a faint kiss to Anakin’s nose, before sliding out of the booth to see what the noise was. 

“I’ll be right back,” Ryth winked, making his way to the kitchen.

Anakin smiled as he walked off, hiding his face in his hands. He felt relieved, beyond grateful that he was able to kiss him and  _ not _ panic. It was nice. 

He wanted to do it again. He wanted to do it immediately. 

Anakin stood up to go find Ryth, but as he did, there was a cold weight in his stomach that dropped right as the kitchen exploded.

* * *

When Anakin came to, he was vaguely aware of the sirens. He could see the sky, which had just begun to turn to dusk, through the hole in the roof. Ash rained on his face.

_ Where am I? _

It was as if someone had thrown ice water at his face, how suddenly he sobered up.

“Ryth,” he croaked, voice raspy, the sound hurt him.

He heard nothing but the sirens. He rolled on to his stomach, clawing his way forward to where the kitchen used to be. The lack of movement killed him. He felt nothing besides himself.

What felt like an hour later, Anakin reached Ryth. 

“Hey,” Anakin whispered roughly. He reached out to the Twi’lek’s face, brushing his hand across his forehead, his cheekbone. He felt nothing. 

“Hey, hey,” he whispered more urgently, crawling up to him, pulling his torso into his lap as he sat up. There was no response. 

He felt numb. He felt beyond numb. Anakin felt abandoned. He could hear nothing but his own jagged breathing, the cracking of small fires, the far-off sirens, and the heavy beat of his heart. 

He cradled Ryth’s head, which was moderately undamaged. He had blood on the inside of his lips, his eyes were glassy, starting to fog over. It hadn’t been the explosion that killed him. It had thrown him backwards into a table, so hard that it severed his spine, breaking his ribs. 

Anakin pressed his forehead to Ryth’s, finding no warmth in the gesture. 

_ Why is it that everyone I touch dies? _ He couldn’t cry. His body refused it. 

So he sat there until his back was sore. Until his legs were asleep from the literal dead weight on his lap. 

He pulled Ryth closer to him. He could imagine that in this position, Ryth had simply fallen over, and Anakin was playfully checking on him. That he would wake up, and he would be alone on the  _ Resolute. _ That he would snap out of it, and go tell Ryth about this crazy dream he had, where he had lost everything within a minute. Just when he had felt that he had something  _ right.  _ Something  _ good. _ Something that was for him. Not a Jedi thing, not an ‘anything’ thing. 

His comm blinked at him.

_ “Anakin? Anakin, do you read me?” _ came the worried, distorted voice, of Mace Windu.

_ “Anakin, there’s been an explosion, we haven’t heard from you in --” _

“Cafe.” Anakin whispered, voice hoarse. The comm blinked once more, to show that the message was received. 

Anakin ghosted his lips over Ryth’s forehead. He kissed his nose, his mouth once more. He pulled the man closer and wished for nothing more than to crumble into dust on the outside, as he was already doing within. 

Barely minutes later, which for Anakin felt like an eternity, there was a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Hey kid,” Mace whispered, “we’ve gotta get you home.”

Anakin shook his head, whole body cradled around Ryth’s. 

“Anakin, come on,” Mace said, stronger. “We need to let the authorities have him now, alright? Can you identify him?”

Anakin nodded, empty feeling threatening to consume him; like a black hole on the Kessel Run. Or the abyss he was sure was waiting for him as soon as he went to sleep. 

“Can I have the name? I’ll tell the authorities what they need to know, then you don’t have to talk, and we can get you patched up.” Anakin nodded slowly.

“Ryth Vex.” he whispered, so softly that it was a small miracle Mace could hear him at all. A squeeze on the shoulder was the warning Anakin got before Mace left.

He slowly relaxed his vice like grip on Ryth. He looked over the man emotionlessly. 

His prosthetic had been knocked off half way, leaving it hanging by one side. His torso was completely limp in the middle, and his chest felt like a bloated bag of sticks. His eyes were empty, now. Anakin closed them gently. His neck was also loose, but to less of a degree than his torso was. The metaphor of a ‘rag doll’ came to mind. 

_ “I’ll be right back,” _

The open ended finality of the statement broke Anakin down, he was sure he would never say any words of the sort, ever. It was a horrible way to lose people, and a worse way to die. Certain that everything was alright. 

At least on the battlefield, you know what you’re getting into.

Mace pulled Anakin out of his thoughts with a hand on his back, resting gently. 

“It’s time to go, kid,” he said softly. Anakin nodded, and with one last press of foreheads, he let go.

* * *

_ “What  _ exactly, _ did you think you were doing?” _ the Sith hissed with rage. 

“I did what I did.” came the indignant answer from the Instigator.

“Couldn’t you see he was  _ useful _ to us? That he gave an otherwise  _ unclouded _ perspective?”

The Instigator sniffed.

“I find it difficult to process the necessity of  _ two _ Instigators. Especially when you did not alert me to such an occurrence.” 

The Sith went quiet, and it was deafening.

“I think you will find that I am to know what I will, and what  _ you _ know, is what I decide.” his voice was that of a snake rearing its head to bite: poised, calculating, dangerous. 

“He didn’t want to participate in this. Do you  _ know _ how exhausting it is to have to track down scum that live in the industrial sector?” the Instigator demanded.

“Whether or not you agree with my methods, I was  _ able to get results _ by mind-wiping him after interrogations. You will see, should you step out of line again, that I will hold no such precautions with you, Instigator.”

They trembled at this, a shock of what they had provoked sent cold electricity down their spine.

“Y-yes, my Lord.”

“Do not contact me until I tell you to.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

“I will expect  _ high results _ from you after you pulled that stunt. You will compensate for the lack of another person. And  _ you will work quickly.” _

The transmission clicked out. 

The Instigator put their head in their hands, for the first time considering the consequences of what they had done when, in a blind rage of jealousy, called the hit. They had been furious that the Sith had doubted their resolve so much as to appoint an Instigator who needed to be mind-wiped after each session. That they had even  _ had _ to compete with someone so low, someone  _ unwilling _ to see their greater purpose in the future Empire. 

The Instigator calculated their next move. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let me know what you think ?
> 
> stay safe lovelies  
> xo spiders


	13. I found what I was missing when I fell into your arms.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the consequences of the other Instigator's intervention leads them to more closely understand the situation.  
> Anakin deals with the loss of his friend; he and Obi-wan are assigned to a mission that derails at the last minute.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BIG shout-out to user @dbakeiro for the suggestion of the chapter's song, "Help" by Hurt.  
> it's phenomenal, and definitely worth a listen.

Obi-wan waited anxiously for Mace’s return. He had seen Anakin had taken his speeder out when he and Ahsoka returned to the Temple, and it was dark by the time they did that. Ahsoka waited with him, she was pacing while Obi-wan stood still. Very still. 

Normally, he wouldn’t have paid serious attention when an alert came in of an attack in the industrial sector. They happened often enough, but not with bombs. Usually, it was petty theft that had escalated to blaster fire, and the Jedi weren’t called to intervene. 

But in this case, Mace had been patronising the same cafe for close to twenty years. He knew the owner, who was off-world on some moon trying to negotiate his way into new materials. He had called Mace when he was contacted by the owner of the neighbouring shop, knowing Mace was on Coruscant. 

“Have you seen Anakin?” Mace jogged up to Obi-wan as they came back into the Temple.

“His speeder isn’t here. He must’ve taken it out.” Mace felt his heart grow cold. He knew Anakin was fond of the cafe, spending much of his time there when he could. He was probably there now, damnit. 

Mace sprinted out then. 

Leaving Obi-wan and Ahsoka to wait. 

An hour after he left, Mace returned. He was supporting Anakin, who had a bruise on his cheekbone, and scrapes on his face. Otherwise, he seemed to be fine, besides favouring his leg.

“Anakin!” Obi-wan rushed to his side, pausing as he reached for him

_ May I? _ He felt Anakin’s agreement through their bond, and he took over carrying him.

“He’s not seriously hurt. There was another survivor, but only one was killed.” Mace said gently. 

“Master!” Ahsoka ran up to Anakin, taking his other side from Windu.

“Heya, Snips,” he croaked, lungs coated in ash, his face grey from it.

“Are you alright?” she asked, eyes searching his face for any indication he wasn’t.

“Yeah, just got a bit banged up. Others,” he cleared his throat, voice tight. “Weren’t as lucky.”

“I’m sorry,” Ahsoka whispered, seeing Anakin’s obvious, and badly-hidden, sadness. 

“Yeah, he was a good guy,” Anakin cracked a smile, eyes lacking any trace of it. 

Obi-wan pushed a wave of sympathy through the bond at Anakin. Anakin accepted it, but his exhaustion was the only thing Obi-wan felt in return. 

Anakin’s examination showed that he had only managed to crack a rib, and slightly fracture his femur, but his lungs hadn’t been so lucky. They were coated in ash, and he was put on a respirator for two hours, so that the concoction of gas he breathed was able to loosen it and carry it out. Master Che had simply thrown a bag of bacta gels at Anakin after that, with a gruff ‘glad you’re okay, kid’ before kicking them out of the Halls. It had gotten relatively busy since the upkick of the war. 

Anakin went straight to bed after that, falling asleep in record time. He dreamed of shared smiles, a laugh that lit up blue eyes. The feel of obsidian skin, once warm, now as cold as the stone it mirrored. Of kind touches, playful assurances that  _ I’ll be right back. _

He woke up tired. 

And then he internalised it, and moved on. 

* * *

The Instigator huffed as they rewinded the security footage they had been given by the Hooded Man. 

In this recording, the second meeting of seven with the Twi’lek, the Hooded Man sat across from a table, hands folded in front of him. The Twi’lek was stuck to the chair by invisible hands that shoved him back down when he tried to get up. 

“Tell me,” the man said, leaning forward, “What do you know about Anakin Skywalker.”

“I don’t know who you’re talking about,” the Twi’lek spat, eyes defiant even through the grainy footage.

“I admire your intentions, but they are futile.” the Man reached a hand towards the Twi’lek, who flinched, but did not touch him.

“What-what are you doing?” he panicked, back arching as he tried to escape. 

“Calm yourself. This will barely take a moment.”

_ “Stop it!”  _ he screamed, writhing where he sat. The Instigator grimaced, knowing that the forceful mental penetration was incredibly uncomfortable. The Hooded Man had only tried it once, and stopped after he realised they were willing to give him what he needed to know, at the right price. 

“You have served me well,” the Man cackled, leaning back, leaving the Twi’lek breathless and limp.

“I don’t -ugh -  _ kriffing _ serve you,” he groaned, trying to sit up. 

“You do not recall this meeting,” the Man waved his hand.

“I  _ remember _ everything,” the Twi’lek tried.

_ “You do not recall this meeting.” _ the Man repeated, voice laced with something the remaining Instigator could only guess at.

“I -” the Twi’lek’s voice changed, more monotonous and weary than it had been, “I do not recall this meeting.”

“You will go home, and go to sleep. You’ve had a long day.”

“I will… I will go home, and go to sleep. I’ve had a long day.”

The Twi’lek was released, and he got up, walking to the door, in a daze.

The Instigator sped to the next one. 

The Twi’lek was physically restrained in this one. He fought against the arm bands, and glared at the Hooded Man. 

“Look, I don’t know  _ who  _ you are, and I don’t care. Let. Me. Go.” he snarled. The Instigator noted that his charcoal skin made the gesture much more intimidating, making his white teeth and blue eyes startlingly bright. They raised an eyebrow appreciatively.  _ Too bad I had to knock him off, _ they mused.

“Will you cooperate, this time?”

“I don’t know  _ what _ you’re talking about.”

“Tell me what you know about Anakin Skywalker.”

“And why in  _ Sith’s hells  _ would I tell you  _ anything _ about him!” he bit, leaning forwards to try to force the Man away from him.

“Because he is why you are here. Give. Him. Up.”

“I-I don’t believe you!” the Twi’lek shouted, but his tough façade was fading, fast. He looked scared, the Instigator noted.

“This is just a bad dream,” the Man purred. “It will be over soon enough, just give me what I want to know.”

He raised his hand to the Twi’lek, and he went slack.

The Instigator sped to the second to last recording.

“What do you want?” the Twi’lek sobbed, looking physically injured. The Man sat where he always did, and studied the man in front of him with a clinical gaze. 

“You know what I want.”

“Go  _ away.” _ the man pleaded, his cries falling on deaf ears.

“Let me in, and your pain will pass.”

“Like my  _ pain _ has anything to do with it!” he snapped, eyes gleaming, “You always find a way to take my memories, I can barely get them back! I’ve never been able to remember what I’ve been through until I’m  _ back here.” _

The Man laughed slowly, the sound sending shivers down the spines of both Instigators. 

“Your memory makes you cooperative. Knowing what you’ve been through already,” he held a hand up, it crackling with some kind of energy, the Twi’lek flinched violently. “Makes you more… amenable… to my desires.”

“You’re sick.” he sobbed, but the fight was fading from him fast. 

“Give me what I want to know, and the dreams will end.”

“How can this  _ possibly _ be a dream?” he demanded, incredulous. The Instigator winced, knowing that the man had been mind wiped more times than they could count, just for the sake of casual information.

“You’ll wish it was.” the electricity seemed to soar from the Man’s hand, striking the Twi’lek. The Instigator muted the recording as they waited for the screaming to stop. They felt slightly sick. 

They sped to the last recording.

The Twi’lek seemed healthy, but the Instigator couldn’t tell if it was just the lighting. Looking at the time stamp, this would put the meeting a few months after Skywalker returned from Geonosis. 

The Hooded Man raised his hand, and the Twi’lek flinched, slamming his head to the side in a futile attempt to block the predicted invisible reach. The Man cackled grotesquely, having not even tried to pry into his mind, which was slowly turning to mush with all of the manipulation. Even if the other Instigator  _ hadn’t _ interfered, he would have died within a year from the damage.

“Will you give me what I want?”

“Never,” the man whimpered. His body seemed to rack with something akin to guilt. The Instigator knew now that this was after Skywalker had initiated contact with the Twi’lek once again, following months of silence. 

“I would reward you most handsomely for your cooperation.” the Man purred, voice like velvet, but something vile lurked in his words. “I have the power to give you whatever you wish.”

“I want you to  _ leave.” _ the Twi’lek said, voice rough.

“What is it you want?”

“Fuck. Off.” the Twi’lek spat, fire in his eyes. The Hooded Man laughed then, after a moment’s pause. 

“Oh, my dear boy, you’ve  _ fallen _ for him, haven’t you.”

The Instigator’s eyes went wide, truly surprised at what they had heard.

“That’s not your business.”

“Oh, I assure you it is. It will make our meetings so much more… beneficial.”

“I hate you,” the Twi’lek cried, voice breaking. 

“I know,” the Man’s voice was sickeningly sweet. “I know,” he purred, throwing his hand forwards so that it grasped the man’s forehead. He screamed violently, and once again the Instigator felt a pang of guilt, muting the recording. 

They felt more secure in their actions, however. Killing the pathetic little man had been a merciful kill. He should be grateful for their interference, for their jealousy. 

The Twi’lek went limp on the recording, and they hastily unmuted it.

“Take him back to where you found him.” The Hooded Man waved dismissively at the body in front of him.

“Back to his bed, My Lord?” someone asked, off screen. 

“Yes. He should remember nothing, so take care to scatter what I have given you in his apartment.”

The recording stopped. 

* * *

Anakin held a screwdriver in his mouth as he fiddled with the wires in his arm. He furrowed his brow in concentration, using his left hand to poke the wires back into place, to wrap around the new metal tendon he had swapped the old one out for. At this point, he had detached the wire that had allowed for the sensory receptors to carry signals to his brain, so it didn’t hurt when he had to unscrew the stabilising tendon, and slot back in the new one. Taking the screwdriver from his mouth, he fixed the last few screws, before setting it aside, and picking up the soldering iron. He then melted the wires together, so that he would be able to use it properly when he switched it back online. Nodding to himself, he set down the iron, and snapped the safety back on over the exposed wiring. Now, all that was visible were the tendons, and not the wires that powered them. He flipped the switch, wincing when he regained sensations in his hand. 

Slowly, his fingers flexed, an he tapped each one to his thumb, before repeating the motion, faster. When he was back to speed, he surveyed his work. 

Where the main rod had been, now was another, made of duralite. The glossy black material was hard to see first, but as he squinted, he saw that it sparkled from behind the much lighter durasteel of his other metal tendons. 

It had been a week since the bombing of the cafe, and although it had been found out later that the perpetrator had accidentally dropped it from a few levels above, Anakin still felt empty thinking about it. Just as he was helpless to save his mother, he was helpless to save Ryth. The man responsible had been apprehended and imprisoned within a day. He felt that the man got off easy, but he knew Ryth wouldn’t be happy if he tried to get revenge. 

Even if he wanted to, he didn’t think he would be able to get revenge. He hadn’t cried for Ryth, all he felt was empty, and while the sentence of the perpetrator served as closure, he didn’t want to confront the issue. Because confronting the empty feeling in his chest would only mean acknowledging it. And acknowledging it meant that he wouldn’t be over it. So, Ryth remained tightly locked in a box at the back of his head, and he lived on in a rod in Anakin’s arm. He didn’t care if anyone called him sentimental for taking a part of Ryth’s prosthetic and fabricating it into his own. They wouldn’t know, and they wouldn’t ask if they found out.

Anakin pressed his forearm over his chest, before slipping the glove back on, snapping the extra supports over it, securing the glove to his arm. Then the other glove went back on. He secured his lightsabre to his belt before leaving his room. 

He had an assignment on Fallucia that required both his and Ahsoka’s attention. And Obi-wan’s. 

He didn’t want to think about his old master right now. What he had been thinking of the last time he had spent with the man had only been Ryth. And the utter sympathy in his eyes had  _ almost _ made Anakin’s composure snap. And before that, it had been the way the light hit his face as he slept. 

He felt guilty. 

For thinking too much, for not thinking enough. For losing Ryth, and feeling responsible even though it wasn’t his fault. For letting Ahsoka see how weary he was when he came back, and didn’t throw his shields up fast enough. For needing the shields, clinging to them like a line that kept him from drowning in the quicksands back on Tatooine. He felt guilty for needing comfort so badly, and shutting everyone out who was willing to provide it. Especially Obi-wan. 

He reached the landing pad where his shuttle was waiting for him. Rex was waiting, along with Cody and Obi-wan. No sign of Ahsoka, though.

“Glad to see you’ve made it. I’ve just been informed by Master Koon that he would be mentoring Ahsoka for a while, he needed to take her on a mission somewhere, but they’ll be back at the Temple soon.” Obi-wan said, voice light.

“Oh, right, I forgot about that,” Anakin grinned, “losing my memory already. Looks like your age is infectious, old man.” he clapped Obi-wan on the shoulder as he entered the shuttle, Rex and Cody laughing behind him.

“At least I’m old enough to drink at the club on the 115th level,” Obi-wan smirked. Anakin rolled his eyes.

“That was  _ one _ time!” he protested. 

“They carded you.”

“Hey!  _ One  _ time!” Obi-wan laughed at the indignant response. 

Everything was going smoothly on Fellucia until, that is, Anakin demanded he would fly the shuttle back to the  _ Resolute. _

The others had already boarded the trooper shuttles and made it to the ship. So it was him, Obi-wan, an agitated R2-D2, and the cold vacuum of space. 

“Let’s recount  _ how _ we got into this mess, my friend.”

Anakin sighed, slamming his head into the seat behind him and throwing his arms up.

“Oh,  _ I don’t know, _ how do  _ you _ think we got into this?” he groaned, exasperated. 

“Well, if I had to find  _ one _ moment that caused it, I would say that it was when you failed to mention to the  _ Resolute _ that we would be coming in on a separate shuttle before you told them to immediately go to hyperspace when we landed.  _ On a separate shuttle.” _

“Okay! Okay!” Anakin protested. “But  _ you _ said the shuttle would ‘do fine, Anakin.’” he mocked the Coruscanti lilt. Obi-wan scoffed. 

“Hardly. I said it would do fine for the return journey, not the  _ entire journey _ back to Coruscant.”

Anakin sighed angrily. He set up a transmission.

“Hey Snips! It seems the old man and I are trapped,” he glared at Obi-wan, “a few thousand fucking -”

“- Language, Anakin,”

“-  _ kriffing _ klicks away from where our jump point was supposed to be. We’ll be back to Coruscant in, oh I don’t know, three standard days?”

Obi-wan rolled his eyes at his overdramatic companion.

“Anyway, tell Masters Fisto and Koon that I thank them for their keeping you occupied, and I will be home in a  _ few days,” _ he glared, halfheartedly, at Obi-wan, who was suppressing a laugh.

“Thank you, Padawan Ahsoka.” Obi-wan flipped the transmission off, and sent it. 

A slightly uncomfortable silence lapsed between them. 

They had commed Rex and Cody as soon as the ship made the jump, and although the troopers had initially been shocked, they had seemed to find the situation amusing. Even  _ more so _ when they were unable to turn around for them, as they were already hours from the next jump point, where they would be meeting Master Ad-Mundi to escort him home. 

So there they were, slowly making their way to Coruscant. It was just their luck that the ship was lightspeed capable, if they hadn’t gotten so lucky, it would take weeks, at the earliest.

Anakin pushed the central lever that activated the hyperdrive. The coordinates had been set, so now all he had to do was wait out the ride. For three days. 

Next to the one person he had wanted to avoid. Even though the two-week campaign on Fellucia had lessened his desires to be away from his old master, he wasn’t so keen on being alone with him for so long. Because then he would have to talk about his  _ feelings, _ and his less-than-optimal sleeping schedule. 

And the man was distracting. But he didn’t want to think about it. Because that would only be fueling the distraction. 

He stood up to inspect the shuttle’s equipment. It had been  _ right there,  _ which made it attractive, but now he had to determine how it would stand up over the next few days. He groaned as he noticed for the first time how  _ small _ the shuttle was. There was a small ‘fresher, with a large enough shower, a pantry with two ration bars --  _ great _ \-- and a small bedroom. Anakin rolled his eyes, and headed back to the cockpit. Obi-wan had been reading a holopad there, seeming annoyingly unperturbed. Anakin felt like being petty. So, as loudly as possible, he walked back, and slumped into the captain’s chair. He threw his arm over his face, blocking his eyes. But as he peeked out from under his arm, he noticed no change in Obi-wan’s face. 

He groaned, and moved himself around so that he was upside down in the chair: feet hanging over the shoulder area, and his back in the seat itself. The rest of his body he just let flop around underneath the control board. 

“What are you doing?” Obi-wan sighed, not looking away from his holopad except for a quick glance down at the man.

“Nothing,” Anakin muttered, purposely trying to annoy the man. It would seem that his efforts were paying off, given that the man heaved a heavy sigh, putting the holopad down. 

“Really?” he asked, thoroughly unconvinced.

Anakin paused, as if he was pondering his question.

“Maybe.”

“Well then,” Obi-wan said. Anakin waited for him to continue, but when he didn’t, he rolled his eyes.

“No fair,” he whined, “that was  _ my _ tactic!”

Obi-wan huffed a laugh, and then got up, walking back towards the rooms. Anakin folded himself and rolled sideways out of the chair, head only slightly spinning from being upside down. He trotted down the hall after his friend, and saw that he had moved to claim the bed.

“Yeah… about that,” Anakin said, face slightly red as he rubbed the back of his neck. Obi-wan lifted an eyebrow questioningly.

“Um, there’s… there’s only one.”

“I know,” Obi-wan said, unbothered. He slipped off his boots and armour, setting them neatly on the ground next to him. “We’ve shared before, I assumed it wouldn’t be a problem.” Anakin’s face went positively scarlet.

Obi-wan paused, eyes widening the slightest bit as his hands stilled, still touching the armour.

“Unless you would be more comfortable if we took turns-”

“No! No, sorry, I just,” he cleared his throat, “wanted to make sure you were okay with it.” Obi-wan locked eyes with him, and nodded once he determined that Anakin was being genuine in his expression of comfort. 

Anakin looked away, face pink as he kicked off his boots, and lifted off the shoulder pads. 

Obi-wan had taken up residence on the side of the bed nearest the wall, he raised an eyebrow expectantly at Anakin, noting the hesitancy. 

“Are you sure?” he asked patiently. Anakin nodded frantically, covering his blip.

“Yeah, just wasn’t sure if I was totally tired yet, but slipping in after you were already asleep would have been creepy so-” he cut himself off. “Yeah.” he cleared his throat, Obi-wan gestured to the unoccupied side of the bed. 

Thankfully, the bed was large enough that when Anakin lay down, there was at least an arms length between the two men. He grumbled something along the lines of ‘goodnight’ before throwing his nearby boot at the light switch. 

“You could’ve just used the force, Anakin,” Obi-wan droned. 

“Wouldn’t that have been improper, though?” Anakin turned his head, the flash of his teeth somewhat visible in the dim light.

Obi-wan turned his head to face Anakin’s, which was slightly smushed, him laying on his chest, pushing his cheek into his eye. He couldn’t help but laugh quietly at the sight.

“What?” Anakin spluttered, brows furrowing, laughing a bit in confusion. Obi-wan kept laughing, tilting his head back to the ceiling and  _ away _ from the spectacle.

“What!” he demanded, laughing openly now.

“Your face,” Obi-wan laughed, “it was all squished up because of the angle.”

He could see Anakin rolling his eyes in his periphery. 

“I swear, if  _ anyone _ knew you made such comments, it would be  _ much _ harder to pretend you’re an adult.”

“I am an adult!” Obi-wan protested.

“Yeah, and I’m a senator,” Anakin laughed. Obi-wan rolled his eyes.

“Careful, old man, they’ll fall out of your head.”

“Useful, as that’ll be the only expression I need around you, my old padawan.”

Anakin’s laughter died down a bit. 

“What is it?” Obi-wan asked, noting the silence.

“Do I annoy you?” Anakin asked, voice quiet. Obi-wan frowned, and shifted so that he was looking at Anakin.

“What would make you ask such a thing?” he said softly, concern on his face. Anakin shifted, looking away from his eyes.

“I dunno.”

“Anakin,” Obi-wan said, both exasperated and concerned. “You do no such thing. Sure you can be reckless at times,” Anakin bit his lip, “and stubborn beyond belief. But do believe me when I say that you are one of the most phenomenal individuals I have ever met.”

Anakin remained quiet, but his eyes met Obi-wan's once again, searching.

“You don’t mean that,” he whispered. 

“I do,” Obi-wan whispered back. 

Anakin snaked his hand up, hesitating before he rested it on the side of the bearded man’s face. Obi-wan rested his own hand above it, trying to convey his sincerity in the motion.

“Are you sure?” Anakin said, sounding so broken it physically pained Obi-wan. 

Obi-wan looked into the eyes of the man next to him.

He had watched this man go through so much. The galaxy had torn into him, and ate him up, but he came out of it, still trying to look up. He saw so much of himself in Anakin that it had scared him, and he knew from experience the fear he had of losing those around him. And he knew that he needed to know that he was  _ valued _ by someone, for more than just another Jedi in the war, for more than just as a master, a padawan, a comrade in arms. He needed to understand that above all, Obi-wan valued him for  _ him. _

Making a swift decision, one that he was sure he would regret later, he pulled Anakin’s hand from the side of his face. Anakin’s face dropped, eyes looking abandoned. 

He brought the knuckles of his hand to his lips, and kissed it gently.

“I am certain.”

Anakin’s eyes shone, and he had a soft smile on his face. 

Obi-wan slipped Anakin’s hand back to him, patting the back of it as he released it. 

_ Go to sleep, Anakin. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> took some risks here, and even though i planned for some of the steps to take a bit longer, it felt more natural here, so it went here :)  
> pleeeeasseeee let me know what you think! i really enjoy hearing from you all.
> 
> and let me know if you guys have any concerns/thoughts/suggestions/things for the fic! I check the comments daily :)
> 
> take care of yourselves  
> xo spiders


	14. The ghost of you lives on through everything I see and touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> an eventful night, a return to Coruscant, and an important conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WoW! this has just become my most liked fic here!! 140 Kudos?! you guys are the BEST.
> 
> in other matters, the lovely @dbakeiro has created a playlist for this fic!  
> and i drew some concept art for Ryth a while bak, links hopefully at the bottom!
> 
> song title from "Coming Home" by Falling in Reverse.

Obi-wan woke a few hours later to Anakin mumbling in his sleep. It wasn’t anything new, but the sweat on Anakin’s forehead, and the deep furrow of his brow was worrying.

Obi-wan propped himself up on his elbows, watching him, and when it didn’t let up, he tried to reach out through the bond, but all he was met with was a dark, cold wall that seemed to writhe like serpents. Shocked, he leaned back, abruptly pulling out of the force, and instead resting a hand lightly on his brow.

“Anakin?” he whispered, the man only frowning deeper and whimpering.

“Anakin,” he shook the man lightly. 

_Forgive me for this,_ he pushed through the bond.

Obi-wan leaned over so that he was able to slot his arms underneath Anakin’s, which were shaking. He heaved Anakin up to his chest, and held him tightly. Anakin’s breathing steadied within a minute. 

Anakin felt his mind free up from the tangle of darkness it had been in. He had dreams about the Chancellor, and a hooded man. Both were pulling at him, but their intentions were different… he couldn’t make out what they were. And he saw Ryth, and his mom. They were having tea together, smiling and telling him to come sit down. 

How he longed to go to them. But when he approached them, they became more distressed. Two steps, and they were no longer smiling, there was a pain in their eyes. A third, and they were bruised. By the time he reached them, his feet moving of their own accord, they were both bloody and broken, staring at him with such great sorrow he felt himself drowning.

 _I can help you save them._ He heard one voice, something familiar about it, but it was deeper, and sounded like snakes. _Say the word,_ the other voice hissed. Sickly sweet like straight vanilla extract, at a distance, it was charming, but now it was too much, and it burned him inside and out. 

He wanted to leave, but he was drawn ever closer to the broken bodies of his loved ones. They reached out for him, and he tried to pull away, but the constant thrumming of his heart sounded like _fail-ure, fail-ure, fail-ure, fail-ure._ Their eyes were sunken into their skulls, and then they shattered into nothingness. Anakin was on his knees now, where they had sat, but all that remained of them was dust in the air, slowly blowing away with every breath he took, and broken rib cages. He reached for the bones, but they crumbled when he had them in his grasp. He tried to stop breathing, so that he would hold on to their ashes, but it wasn’t good enough, he wasn’t enough, he wasn’t --

_Forgive me for this._

Anakin became aware, slowly, of a warm feeling to his chest. It was like sunlight in the earliest stages of dawn: gold, warm on his skin despite cold winds. It was a feeling of safety, and it surrounded him. 

He felt his dream slip away, the last cold tendrils of it being wrenched loose of his heart. He sighed, feeling as if a massive weight was released from where it had been crushing his lungs. 

Obi-wan could feel Anakin’s force signature become less distressed, and he sighed in relief. The various items in the room had been trembling as Anakin struggled to escape his nightmare. Everything was still now, albeit closer to the bed than they had been. He felt Anakin sigh, and saw the frown lift from his brow. 

Just as he was about to let Anakin go, Anakin snuggled closer to him. His breath caught in his throat when a soft noise escaped from the back of Anakin’s throat. 

“Obi-wan?” Anakin asked groggily, the words vibrating in his chest against Obi-wan’s.

“Yes, Anakin?” he answered, voice cracking on the second word. He winced. 

“I wanna… show you somethin’… but I dunno,” he yawned, “if I want to.” Obi-wan considered his sleepy words.

“Are you sure you don’t want to wait?”

“I don’t wanna wait,” he hummed, sounding a bit more awake, but not by much.

“Alright then, should we meditate?” Anakin shook his head.

“No, I don’t wanna move, I’ll show you here.”

“Are you _absolutely_ certain? Because, you’re half asleep, and I don’t want you to -”

“Obi-wan.” Anakin cut him off. At Obi-wan’s continued silence, he pressed his forehead to the man’s collarbone, having to shift around to do so. As Obi-wan felt a gentle tugging through the force, he relaxed himself, and allowed it to take him where it willed.

_Anakin was sitting outside of a cafe, pondering something._

_A flash of blue eyes, Obi-wan found strangely familiar._

_Different blue eyes when Anakin was inside the cafe, a warm smile, words he couldn’t quite make out. A gentle press of lips, a feeling of elation._

_The bomb going off, Anakin blacking out. Anakin crawling with his metal arm, sorting through the rubble until he found him._

_A different scene: same cafe, but Anakin was a Padawan still. Obi-wan could discern faintly the exchanges of conversation between the two men. He saw the worry on the Twi’lek’s face when Anakin shifted memories to after the battle on Geonosis. The delight that followed. He felt the safety of the walls of the cafe, the safety in the presence of the man._

_He felt the world around Anakin fracture beyond repair when he held the man’s body, clammy and lifeless._

Anakin withdrew from his mind, letting him breathe. 

Obi-wan felt the lingering effects of the connection, the hollowness in his chest, the devastation he could only guess the extent of. 

“Anakin, I am so sorry.” he said, wrapping his arms around Anakin tighter.

“Please, don’t,” Anakin choked, voice tired, “I’m always crying around you, and I don’t want to always be crying.”

Obi-wan didn’t know how to answer that, so he remained silent. 

“I just… he’s a part of me. And you don’t know why that’s funny yet, but-” a tear hit Obi-wan’s tunic, soaking through the fabric, but he elected to ignore it “-I just want you to know about him.”

“Thank you for sharing that with me, Anakin,” he said, looking down at the mop of dark hair on his chest.

“He… he reminded me of you,” Anakin sniffed. “And I didn’t want to share him because if I did, I would be losing the freedom I had.”

Obi-wan’s heart clenched, feeling that he had been restricting Anakin’s happiness somehow.

“It was really nice,” he continued, “and now that it’s over, I don’t know what to do with myself.”

Obi-wan stayed silent, afraid to intrude on the much-needed confession.

“I don’t have a safe place like that anymore. But, sometimes I think I do,” he laughed bitterly, “and then I realise that I really _don’t,_ and it’s just me projecting what I want to feel, and hear, on people who deserve better, you know?”

Obi-wan opened his mouth to respond, but then Anakin spoke again, soft enough that he almost missed it.

“I think that this is my safe place. Not the shuttle, but this…” he trailed off, falling back asleep.

Obi-wan sat still. His heart was thundering in his chest and he was worried it would wake Anakin, but the man didn’t stir, not even when Obi-wan lowered them both so that he could have more support, and sit in a less-cramped position.

His mind was racing at lightspeed but he could barely understand any of it. Was Anakin implying what Obi-wan thought he was implying? Were they just the sleep-addled ramblings of a heartbroken man? Would Anakin _remember_ any of this?

According to the timepiece, they still had sixty two hours left until they reached Coruscant. He wondered if things would be the same once they arrived. Would Anakin shut him out again, until he reached a tipping point? Would he continue to seek refuge in Obi-wan’s arms when the galaxy got to be too much for him alone?

 _You’re thinking too loud, go to sleep._

Obi-wan raised an eyebrow in spite of himself at the man curled into him. 

_You’re the reason I’m awake in the first place, my friend._

A slight tendril of amusement filtered through the force.

_Shut up, Obi-wan._

Obi-wan smiled, and tried to clear his mind enough to drift off. It took an hour, at the least, but he got there eventually.

When Obi-wan woke up next, it was to the insistent chirping of a very colourfully worded astromech. 

“What, Artoo?” Anakin yawned, squirming around.

 _I’m trying to tell you that the fucking engine is wonky and you need to get your lazy ass up so that_ I _don’t have to be the one fixing everything on this kriffing ship._ The droid beeped incessantly.

Obi-wan laughed, and Anakin glared at him.

 _Traitor._ He said half-heartedly through the force before turning to the droid.

“Yeah, that’s all good buddy, but I was trying to sleep.”

 _Oh sleep. What a luxury. You know, I have to charge at some points too, but you_ never _ask if I’m too tired to keep working. So get the fuck up and wake the fuck up and fix the force forsaken engine._

Anakin groaned, and rolled off of the bed, crushing Obi-wan’s stomach as he went.

“Lovely, thank you. Just what I ordered to wake up,” he rolled his eyes at the Jedi, who only smirked at him as he pulled on his boots, then walked out of the room after the astromech.

A good half an hour later, Anakin whooped from beneath the floor of the cockpit. Obi-wan looked at the grinning man questioningly from the co-pilot’s seat. 

“Okay,” Anakin said, resurfacing and pushing his goggles up to his forehead, face smeared with engine grease. “Do you want the good news, or the bad news?” 

“Oh dear. Well… let’s try good news.”

“The good news is that our trip got a _lot_ shorter.”

“And the bad?” Obi-wan said hesitantly. Anakin cackled maniacally. 

“The _bad_ news is that the ship is going to explode in five hours.”

“And _why_ exactly is there good news at all, then?” Obi-wan said incredulously. His eyes were very wide, and Anakin fought not to laugh at the sight.

“Well, old man, the _good_ news is there because there’s a small moon nearby that we can land on _before_ the shuttle explodes. Basically, the engine is leaking coolant, so we _kinda_ need to land.”

The man vaulted back up into the cockpit, not bothering to close the floor. As he dropped the ship from hyperspace, Obi-wan saw that they, indeed, were near a small moon. They were so near it, in fact, that it dominated the viewscreen, and threatened to smash into them, should they fail to lower their speed.

“Oops,” Anakin said, swerving sharply. Obi-wan strapped himself in, glaring at his old padawan. Something started beeping rapidly behind them, and Artoo screamed as he slammed into the wall. 

“So, there goes half of the artificial gravity,” Anakin laughed nervously, “at least we’re still sticking to the _real_ gravity.”

“Yes, and _thanks_ to the real gravity, we are going to crash _very soon_ if you can’t land this thing.” 

Anakin grinned, and it turned to a grimace as he frantically started flipping controls, but the beeping continued, and something started flashing red from the main room of the ship.

“Well, _that_ can’t be good.” Obi-wan sighed, resigned to becoming a smear on the surface of the moon.

“Wait a minute-”

“Don’t have a minute-”

“Quiet, padawan. Is that Kashyyyk in the distance?”

Anakin gritted his teeth as the shuttle began to even out, slowing the descent.

“It might be,” he hissed, frantically smashing buttons to lower the landing gear. “Are you ready to jump?”

“Am I ready to _what?”_

“Up we go!” Anakin shouted, hitting the ‘release’ button on their seatbelts, and then using the force to simultaneously grab Obi-wan and Artoo, before shooting out the partially-lowered ramp. 

They landed quite roughly on the side of a mercifully tall hill just as the shuttle collided with the mountain a few klicks from where they were. 

“A very happy landing.” Obi-wan beamed at Anakin, who was breathing heavily.

* * *

As they lay on the hillside, surveying the smoke from the crashed shuttle spiraling up into the distance, Anakin’s comm beeped.

“This is General Skywalker,” he said, answering it. The line was faint, so when the person on the other side answered, there was the faint hiss of static in the background. Then, they could make out someone laughing.

 _“Quiet, little one. Anakin, do you read me?”_ Anakin’s eyes went wide.

“Master Kit?” he spluttered, “How could you reach us?”

_“Let’s just say -- Ahsoka, please, I can’t hear him -- that we were in the area when we saw the shuttle… how do you put it… gracefully collide with the surface of the moon above us.”_

Anakin winced. “That bad, huh?”  
 _“Not one of your best landings, my dear. Is Master Kenobi with you?”_

“Yes, and Artoo. Managed to get us all out before we… uh… landed.”

_“We’re headed to you now, be there within the hour.”_

“Thank you, Master Kit.” Anakin ended the line. 

“What are _you_ laughing at?” he turned to Obi-wan, who was biting the inside of his cheek, and trying to cover his face with his fist. 

“‘My _dear.’”_ he snickered. Anakin’s face went pink.

“Shut up,” he mumbled, looking away. “You’re just jealous that you don’t have such a cool uncle.”

“Perhaps,” Obi-wan said, eyes twinkling with mirth. Anakin rolled his eyes at the sight.

Obi-wan meditated until the ship arrived, while Anakin was staring at the wreckage of the shuttle. The droid was beeping occasionally, fussing over the lack of power supplies on the hill.

“Well, well, well, _who_ do we have here?” Ahsoka laughed, coming up behind them. Her and Kit Fisto had landed a small transport ship on the top of the hill, and were waiting patiently, amusement written all over their faces. 

The trip back to Coruscant wasn’t peaceful for Anakin or Obi-wan. The droid made sure the other two Jedi knew _exactly_ the extent of the disaster.

Anakin was glad to be back at the Temple, and he was glad to escape Obi-wan. He was… conflicted, to say the least. He wanted to draw himself closer to the man, he wanted to fall asleep in his arms every night. But it was too soon. His emotional wounds were too fresh, too raw. And he didn’t suspect the man would harbour any form of the same… affections… for him. It hurt him physically, thinking about the possibility of rejection. He didn’t even know _what_ he felt. He was content to remain as they were. Whatever ‘that’ was. He wanted space, but he also so desperately wanted to suffocate in the closeness. 

He was still reeling from the almost natural proximity he shared with the man when he slept restlessly. It just felt… right. Anakin longed to see what would happen should it continue. It also terrified him. 

He knew who he needed to speak to.

Jogging out of his room, he made his way down the hall, and up a flight of stairs, before arriving at the door. He hesitated as he drew up his fist to knock. Anakin felt his resolve crumble, and just as he turned to retreat, the door hissed open. 

“Hello, darling, how can I help?” the green Nautolan smirked, leaning in the doorframe. Anakin shifted, looking down at his boots.

“Can I… uh… talk? To you?”

The man smiled softly, taking pity on Anakin’s inability to clearly articulate his thoughts.

“Would you like to come inside?”

Anakin hesitated again, but then Kit understood what he was silently pondering.

“Plo’s out and about, don’t worry.” Anakin nodded, following the green Jedi into the room. 

The main room was furnished comfortably, and carried traces of the personal touches from the Jedi who lived there. 

“What happened to your pool?” Anakin asked, looking around at the space.

“Different room,” Kit replied, brushing the subject aside. He sat down on one of the couches, and patted the seat next to him, motioning for Anakin to sit besides him.

“So. What’s on your mind, little Ani?” he asked, poking Anakin’s shoulder armour gently.

“How did, uh, you know you… were interested in Master Koon?” Anakin said, wincing as a blush spread across his face. Kit laughed, and Anakin’s ears turned scarlet.

“Oh, so the time has _finally come._ Little Ani,” he dabbed away invisible tears from his large black eyes, “Is growing up.” Anakin made to shove at his shoulder. Kit leaned away, and Anakin fell off balance, into his lap, where Kit took the moment to start fiddling with the human’s hair. 

“So, is this one _another_ Twi’lek? Or have you moved around the galaxy?” he teased.

“No no, this, uh, he’s human.”

“‘He’?” Kit said suggestively. “Wow, I haven’t heard _that_ one before.” he grinned wolfishly.

“Oh please, they’re almost always… he’s.”

“Is this one force-sensitive?”

“Beyond _belief,”_ Anakin groaned. Kit pulled at his hair lightly, getting him to move his head to a better angle for the Nautolan’s continued amusement.

“Hmm. Don’t tell me who, if you don’t want to, or if you’re not ready, but I’ll humour you.”

Anakin made to feel what the man was doing with his hair, but his hand was lightly slapped away.

“Well, as you know, it was a bit odd at first, given that Plo is a good eighteen years older than me. But, as we are _both_ grown men, we were able to look past that. And, well, I’m not getting any younger, but, _force does he-”_

“Kit!” Anakin yelped, clapping his hands over his ears.

“Sorry, sorry, got carried away,” he laughed, “anyway. I have always been a bit of a flirt, and we had been good friends my whole life at the Temple. So, as I usually do, I was bantering with him on a mission, and well,” he smiled at the memory, “he seemed to actually _flirt back._ Which in and of itself, wasn’t surprising,” he laughed again as Anakin rolled his eyes, groaning, “but, I felt that it was more than just a game. He seemed sincere. It was different… and it was really nice.”

“Is it _that_ simple?”

“Fuck no. It took him getting hit by a shuttle and delirious to convince me of his sincerity. And, he _drove me up the walls_ with how confusing he was. Some days, it seemed like I was getting somewhere, but the next, it felt like I had been imagining the whole thing -- can you turn your head? Thank’s doll -- and… well… it took time. I think we had been talking for nearly half a decade before he went for it.”

“He did?” Anakin asked, surprised that it wasn’t Kit making the first move.

“Yeah, he did,” he smiled, eyes gentle and far-off. “I think I was thirty three when that happened. He must’ve been… fifty five?… anyway, numbers, numbers. Yeah. It takes time little one. How long have you known, or think you’ve known?”

“A _day?”_ Anakin groaned, pushing the heels of his palms into his eyes. “Ugh, I don’t know! It also feels like it’s been _forever!_ But, it feels… too soon.” 

Kit’s face was sympathetic. Anakin had told him about Ryth, almost everything about him, and he confided in Kit after he had come back to the Temple that fateful day. It was nice to have someone to cry on that he _didn’t_ have confusing feelings over. 

“It’s always going to feel ‘too soon’, kiddo. And I’m sorry you had to go through that, and that you’re still going through that. But, as cliché as it sounds, time _does_ help. And So” he enunciated each word with a poke to Anakin’s head, “Does. Talking. About. Your. Problems.”

“But… I feel like I’m _always_ a mess around him! He wants me to talk, but all I do is fucking _cry_ all the time! I’m tired of seeming like a wreck in front of him, when I’m already worried he can only ever see me as one…” he trailed off, eyes misty. Kit tapped his shoulder, and Anakin sat up, out of his lap. Kit pulled him into a side hug.

“I understand where you’re coming from. That was the first few months of my relationship with Plo. But, it’s gotta happen. Keeping everything locked up only leads to it hurting more than it ever should.”

Anakin smiled, pushing his head into the man’s chest. 

“Thanks, uncle.”

Kit kissed the top of his head, mindful of the hair.

“You’ve got this, kid.”

Anakin walked back to his rooms, not paying any particular attention to where he was going. He managed to pass Obi-wan, who was on his way out of the rooms. 

“Hello, Anakin.”

“Hey, Obi-wan,” he smiled.

Obi-wan looked back to his holopad as he walked to the Archives. But then he stopped and turned around, noting that something was different about his friend.

“I like what you’ve done with your hair,” he called. Anakin stopped, face going pink as he reached self consciously to his hair, which was now done up in a braid that seemed to wrap, impossibly, around the circumference of his head. 

It was adorable, Obi-wan thought. He passed off his startling thought with a smirk, and then resumed his research, looking down at the holopad once more. 

* * *

[link to playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2AE2XAOO0FMPc5pW9VX4S9?si=S-9gvJpfThubmpQCDJSV5Q)

[concept art for Ryth](http://fav.me/de0tew3)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i really really appreciate all of the comments, they keep me motivated to write more, and quickly!
> 
> let me know what you think, and i hope you all know today that you are loved :)
> 
> xox spiders


	15. Satisfaction feels like a distant memory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> new assignment, familiar trope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> song title from "R U Mine?" by Arctic Monkeys.

Anakin had  _ completely _ forgotten that Kit had done his hair until Obi-wan had commented on it. But, it seemed to be playful, so he didn’t admonish it. Nor did he take it down. He chose to leave it as-is, which would prove to be slightly awkward when he was summoned to a meeting in one of the Temple briefing rooms. 

When he entered the briefing, he was aware that many eyes that had turned to him remained there for a beat longer than usual. Forcing himself to not go red in the face, he nodded to Mace, who began the briefing with a faint smirk on his face. 

“Alright, so we’ve caught wind of another Separatist scheme to flood the markets. This would be with unrefined spice, but impure, so that it drives down the prices the Republic has been setting for our unrefined spice supply, effectively crippling the Republic on an economic front in that arena.”

Anakin made eye contact with Obi-wan over the holotable.

“This will be a covert operations mission, so it is on a  _ strictly _ need-to-know basis that we will be working. There will be three groups of undercover teams: the first will be our ‘Face’, and will be impersonating previously-created spice mongers from the Core and Inner Rim systems. The second, our ‘Back’ will be our spice suppliers, taking up a spice line from Kessel to Corellia. That’s where our mongers are from, and where they are based. Thirdly, is our ‘Hunt and Extraction’ team. That will be the team which surveys from afar, and will intervene to build credibility to our story.”

Anakin nodded, eyes glued to the projection of the planets, and the respective trade routes between them. It seemed plausible enough, the distance from Corellia to Coruscant provided good cover for a once-Republic friendly spice lane, as it went through Republic space, and a line from Kessel, in the T-10 sector, to Corellia, in the M-11 sector, was daunting, but doable. It seemed to check out. 

“Alright, now, there will be  _ minimal _ clone involvement in the mission, but the Hunt and Extraction team will have clone support at key points. Now, for the assignments. Each of those present will be on one of three teams. On Hunt and Extraction, we will have myself, masters Kenobi, and Secura. On ‘Back’, we will have Vos and Koon, and our Face will be Skywalker and Fisto. Any questions?”

“Yes, just the one,” Kit interjected, raising a green hand daintily in the air. Mace nodded, and the attention was directed to the Nautolan.

“I’m more of what you would call… recogniseable. I suggest that I exchange places with Master Kenobi, as he has a higher capacity to be discreet. And he and Skywalker have a high compatibility in missions, which I believe all of us can attest to.” he said, grinning.

Anakin made eye contact with his uncle, maintaining a straight face while practically shouting  _ ‘bastard!’ _ at him through the force. Kit had the audacity to wink at him from across the holotable, sensing that he had already won.

“Ah, yes… excuse me, Master Fisto, for the lapse in judgement.” 

Force damnit, Mace was smirking knowingly at the Nautolan. 

“Kenobi and Skywalker will be the Face. Anything else?” Anakin caught Obi-wan’s eye, and the man offered a small shrug, “Dismissed, and may the force be with you.”

“Kenobi and Skywalker, may I have a word?” Mace called once most had already filtered from the room. The men looked to him, waiting.

“The Chancellor had heavily suggested for Senator Amidala to be accompanying the mission, but,” Anakin’s face went pale, Obi-wan glancing at him with concern, “the Grand Master and I agreed that, although he had been the one to suggest an infiltration, leaving this matter to the Jedi, rather than a Senator known for her loyalty to the Republic, would be the best bet. Nevertheless, you will be briefed on your assumed identities by Senator Amidala.”

Anakin swallowed, reining in his thoughts as he took a stabilising breath. 

“Thank you, Master Windu,” Obi-wan offered, lightly touching Anakin’s elbow to guide him from the room. 

“Are you alright?” he whispered, eyes searching Anakin’s face for any indication that he wasn’t.

“Yeah, I think so…” he trailed off, suddenly shy. His face was tinged pink, and he struggled to meet Obi-wan’s gaze.

“What is it, Anakin?” Obi-wan slowed to a stop, stepping in front of the taller man, as if the physical placement would do more to politely demand an answer.

“Could you… could you stay close?” he winced, his voice going higher on the latter half of his words. Obi-wan studied him.

“Of course. Now, do you need a minute or two before we go in for the briefing? Or--”

“I’d really just rather get it over with.”

Obi-wan nodded, and the two men headed to the transport, which would take them to a warehouse on the lower levels of Coruscant. The precaution there was in case their hosts decided to assess the validity of the attendees. 

As they climbed into one of the dozen lifts on the block, Anakin found himself chewing the inside of his cheek. 

_ I’m right here, you’re alright. _

Anakin smiled meekly at Obi-wan. 

When they got to the warehouse, they found two suitcases waiting with Padmé, who wore a simple ensemble of only four decorative pieces. She seemed to be posing as a wealthy surface dweller. 

“Hello Ani!” she beamed, he nodded stiffly in acknowledgement. “And Master Kenobi! It is good to see the both of you.”

Her eyes seemed to linger on Anakin for a moment too long to appear casual before she busied herself with their second debriefing.

“Alright, so the identities you will be assuming are Benntal Korse,” she rolled Obi-wan the suitcase on her right, “And Owen Starkiller.” she slid Anakin the other suitcase. 

“Starkiller…” Anakin pondered, “Wait, isn’t that a  _ little _ too close to ‘Skywalker’? I thought this was supposed to be covert.”

“It is!” Padmé laughed, “But that’s for the better, should one of you accidentally slip up, it will be easier to cover.”

Anakin nodded, understanding the feasibility of the choice.

“And ‘Bental’? Really?” Obi-wan laughed, “Whose idea was that?”

“I think you will find that  _ Master Windu _ found the names most appropriate,” she bristled, “and that using ‘Ben’ for short would suffice.” 

Obi-wan stroked his beard.

“Any specifics for the identities?”

Padmé smirked, eyes positively glowing with the mischief they held.

“Well, you will need to shave. You are trying to look younger than forty.” she laughed.

Anakin coughed to hide the laugh that was torn from his chest. Obi-wan glared sideways at him.

“And  _ how long  _ is this assignment to last?” he asked, resigned.

“At least two weeks!” Padmé chirped.

Obi-wan rolled his eyes, and Anakin noted that should he have done so any harder, they would’ve ended up on the floor.

“Let’s get going, then.” Obi-wan curtly dismissed the meeting.

When they had exited the small areas given to them to change, Anakin found his jaw on the floor.

Obi-wan looked  _ incredibly _ young. Even more so than Anakin looked. His attire was burgundy, and the high-backed collar was contrasted by a deep front cut that exposed prominent collarbones. A light cape complimented the outfit, with the velvet a shade darker, the cape stopping just below his waist. Anakin’s face grew hot as the man stepped further out of the shadowed corner, and the high-waisted pants, that clung to his legs, made them seemingly go on for miles. Anakin was vaguely aware of Obi-wan clearing his throat, and when he met the man’s eyes, he felt his heart stop. 

The bottom lids of his eyes had been lightly outlined with dark powder, which complimented the blue of his eyes, and accentuated their size, further adding to the youthful appearance. Small gold cuffs were on the cusps of his ears, three on his left, and two on the right. Anakin couldn’t wrench his eyes away. His face was more defined than he would have suspected, cheekbones prominent over smooth skin. 

“Anakin,” Obi-wan stammered, looking away. “It’s your turn,” he threw a bundle of clothing at his younger friend, before moving to sit in the main section of the warehouse.

As Anakin made his way into the makeshift changing room, he noted that a small handheld mirror had been propped up next to a lantern for their convenience. Or did Obi-wan do that? He had to pry his imagination away from careful fingers holding the mirror as the man focused on his own eyes, gently applying the liner.

Shaking his head, Anakin surveyed the clothing he had been given. It seemed that ‘Owen Starkiller’ seemed to also enjoy the finer things in life, he noted with a scoff. He felt ridiculous. 

The pants were similar in style to what Obi-wan had been wearing, but his were a dark grey, and had a thin stripe of silver running down the outsides of his legs. A semi-translucent silver shirt, gathered at the forearms into grey leather gauntlets, was tucked into them, less ‘secured’ than ‘welded’ into the waistband. He noted, with no small degree of discomfort, that he was incredibly aware of the light breeze that ghosted across his chest when he moved quickly. Anakin sighed with relief to find that there weren’t any complicated things, like the eyeliner, or small earrings, waiting for him. He did, however, almost fall when trying to put on the boots, which went almost to his knees, and had a few-centimetre platform on the bottom. 

Finding no other thing he could use as an excuse to postpone his exit of the changing room, he winced as he stepped around the corner, Jedi robes balled up under his left arm. 

Obi-wan and Padmé abruptly stopped their conversation and turned to him, both quiet. Anakin made a face, which seemed to snap Obi-wan out of his thoughts. 

“Erm, right. You still need these,” he said, standing and bringing over another bundle. The cape was a midnight blue, and was otherwise identical to Obi-wan’s. 

“Anakin, you look wonderful!” Padmé said, clasping her hands together in front of her chest. “You  _ do _ remember how to do your hair like that, yes?”

“Like… what? Oh! No, that was, um, my… uncle?” he winced yet again. Padmé, as Obi-wan’s back was to her, missed the amused snicker that Obi-wan tried to hide with a tight smile. 

“Oh, well, that’s a pity. It would have worked quite well. Are you two ready?” she looked expectantly at them. They shrugged, but followed her, suitcases in tow, to the small but expensive shuttle at the docking station. 

_ “Theta- _ class. Nice.” Anakin commented, whistling as he took in the ship.

“The Chancellor, and Council, agreed that the identities needed a ship more suitable than a  _ Venator _ -class, which might have given up the game prematurely.” she hummed. 

She nodded her farewell as they climbed aboard the lowered ramp. Anakin was happy enough to see that she didn’t try to stick around. As they made their way to the cockpit, Anakin broke into a giant smile when he was met with the familiar sight of his favourite astromech.

“Artoo!” he beamed, the droid turning to face them.

_ Oh look! It’s my overlords! Amazing! Care to tell me what to do, Oh Mighty Ones? _

Anakin laughed.

“Hey, hey! I didn’t know you were assigned with us. It’s good to see you, buddy.”

_ I wish I could say the same, but it appears that you’ve kept the Bald One waiting. He’s been trying to contact you for the last ten minutes. _

“Shit!” Anakin swore, “Could you connect us? Thank you,” the hologram of Mace Windu appeared on their dashboard, Anakin vaguely wondering if he could see their ridiculous attire.

“Master Windu!” Anakin greeted.

_ “Skywalker, Kenobi. It is good to see that you have … transformed … adequately for your mission. Though, there were a few last-minute changes that were unanimously approved in your absence.”  _

Anakin glanced worriedly at Obi-wan, an unspoken  _ ‘this can’t be good’ _ echoing in the silence between them.

“Yes, Master Windu?” Obi-wan answered, brow creased as he looked away from Anakin’s distracting appearance.

_ “The updated case file has been sent to you. After this, the messages between you and us will be communicated by proxy, that proxy being the Back team. Is this understood?” _

“Yes Master,” Anakin said, glancing back at Obi-wan, who didn’t look at him.

_ “Good,” _ the man smirked,  _ “May the force be with you.” _

The two men echoed the sentiment, before the hologram flickered off. Making the jump to hyperspace, Anakin having groaned when he saw where the coordinates were, which gave him autonomy and six hours to kill. 

“Anakin?” Obi-wan called, having remained in the co-pilot’s seat while Anakin went to explore the provisions from the shuttle. 

“Yeah?” he called back, digging through several disguised compartments.

“You might want to read the briefing,” he sounded exhausted.

“Can’t you just read it for me? I’m busy right now,” Anakin stretched to the ceiling, finding another two panels.

“Could you at least… come here?” Obi-wan sounded worried. Anakin frowned, but stopped what he was doing to leap back into his seat.

“What is it?” Anakin asked, reproachfully.

“They’ve updated the covers for Owen and Benntal.” he sighed, shifting uncomfortably in the foreign robes, “and, while the reasons provided make sense, I just fail to see how--”

“--what is it?” Anakin demanded.

“-- well, if you would have let me finish: the Hunt and Extraction team seemed to have deemed it necessary to bank on one of the rumours, albeit false rumour, circulating about the Jedi for our cover--”

_ “Obi-wan.” _

“I’m getting there! So, they’ve taken advantage of some of the more personal rumours, and… well…”

“For kriff’s sake, tell me!”

“We’re to be lovers.” Obi-wan spit out, face going pink. In the silence that followed, it only became redder as he realised the implications.

“We, as in Owen… and Benntal, um, that is. Are, lovers. The reasoning being that since it is a widely accepted misconception that the Jedi are… celibate… in their affairs that--”

“--it would provide deeper cover. It get it.” Anakin was also blushing furiously. 

A thought struck him, and he winced deeply.   
“What is it?” Obi-wan said quickly, misinterpreting the grimace.

“I’m just glad… I’m just glad I was assigned with you, is all…” Anakin trailed off, deliberately avoiding the man’s eyes, staring instead into the hypnotic view ahead of them.

“Ah… well,” Obi-wan swallowed, face tinted pink, “I am… grateful, that they switched the teams at the last moment.”

“Yeah,” Anakin laughed awkwardly. But the silence that fell between them was uneasy. “I’m just glad I wouldn’t have to pretend to be Kit’s lover.” he laughed again, but mostly because he was intensely uncomfortable, and also because of the idea of him having to even  _ pretend _ to be with Kit made him queasy.

“That would have been unfortunate, yes,” Obi-wan laughed. 

They drifted into a tense silence, staring into the hyperspace spread out in the viewport before them.

“I can’t emphasise enough how little I care for Onderon,” Anakin broke the silence nearly two minutes later. “How high priority was this mission again?”

Obi-wan grimaced. “Top level.”

“Oh.” 

Anakin was struck by images of him and Obi-wan, in their ridiculous get up, frequenting social gatherings. Of having to keep his hand around Obi-wan’s narrow waist so he wouldn’t lose him in the crowd. Of having to lean in close to hear him over music and chatter. He thought of having to kiss Obi-wan’s hand in front of others. Maybe it would be Obi-wan kissing his hand? Like he had in the bed on their shuttle after being stranded in space, far from any civilisation. Would he look at him the same way as he did then? Like, for some reason, that Anakin was the only thing in the galaxy worth looking at?

His face was on fire from the thoughts.

He snuck a peek at Obi-wan from the corner of his eye. It was strange to see him without his beard. He seemed much more… open. Expressive. Vulnerable, even. Him growing the beard made sense, Anakin thought. He seemed impossibly young without it. That was, until you could see his eyes. They were much older than the face they were set in, and they held such emotion in them that Anakin had come to rely on Obi-wan’s eyes to communicate his emotions. Now, all he needed to do was glance at him to see the apprehension. The anxiety. Written all over his face, in the tiny pinch at the corner of his mouth, the occasional clench of his teeth, visible below his cheekbones near his jaw. His eye caught on a freckle sitting on Obi-wan’s cheek. He hadn’t seen it in years. Anakin smiled to himself as he tore his gaze away. 

Obi-wan cleared his throat, and Anakin did  _ try _ to pretend he hadn't been staring.

“Hmm?”

“We need to discuss something, Anakin.” Obi-wan said firmly, but there was a gentle edge to his tone that confused Anakin.

“About…?”

“Boundaries.” Anakin went scarlet from the tips of his ears to the bridge of his nose.

“I’m sorry, I --”

“No, no sorry, you misunderstand me,” Obi-wan rushed, “I meant  _ your _ boundaries. In the sense of the mission, to maintain our cover.”

“Oh,” Anakin’s blush deepened, “What, um, what were your ideas?”

Now it was Obi-wan’s turn to go pink. 

“Well, as lovers,” his voice caught on the word, “we would be expected to share a natural… proximity… to one another at most, if not all, times. It would be highly beneficial to discuss this beforehand.”

Anakin swallowed, before nodding in lieu of answering.

“Would you rather I list things off, or… should we stand up and try to figure things out?” Obi-wan winced internally at his gracelessness, cursing his exposed face.

“We can, we can stand.” Anakin said, throat dry as he stood up quickly enough to hit the top of his head on the lower ceiling. 

“Are you alright?” Obi-wan grimaced sympathetically, slowly standing.

“Yeah, just a bump,” Anakin laughed, the sound panicked. “Happens. Happens all the time.”

He gestured to Obi-wan, indicating he should lead the way to the space. 

Obi-wan stood in the middle of the shuttle’s main area, looking down at his hands as he fidgeted with the hem of his sleeves. 

Anakin towered over him in the raised boots, and from that angle, he could see a faint dust of freckles across Obi-wan’s blush-pink nose and ears.

“Do you want to try and figure it out, or do you want,” Obi-wan swallowed, “do you want me to lead?” he finished softly. 

“You can, um, lead.” Anakin looked everywhere but Obi-wan’s face. Obi-wan didn’t notice this, as he was busy doing the same. Eventually, the shorter man looked down to Anakin’s hand, which was tapping nervously against his leg. 

“Tell me if this is too much, okay?” he said softly. Anakin nodded again.

Obi-wan reached out with his hand to lightly touch Anakin’s wrist. The tapping stopped immediately. When no objection was raised, he ghosted his fingers down the side of Anakin’s hand, before loosely slotting his fingers between Anakin’s. Anakin’s breath hitched, but he shook his head when Obi-wan made to stop.

“You’re fine,” he said shakily, staring at their joined hands. Obi-wan nodded, before continuing.

“Is this?” Obi-wan started, as he raised their joined hands to a shoulder height, adjusting the grip so that their palms faced each other, fingers laced together. Anakin nodded, so he continued.

“I’m going to put my hand on your waist now, is that alright?” Anakin nodded again, lips pressed together.

Obi-wan’s free hand gently came to rest on Anakin’s hip. He looked up at Anakin for confirmation, and almost choked on his inhale when he met Anakin’s gaze. His eyes were dark, studying Obi-wan’s face with such intensity that it took his breath away.

“You can come closer,” Anakin whispered. Obi-wan nodded, but kept his eyes locked with the taller man’s as he snaked a cautious arm around Anakin’s back, his hand coming to rest on the man’s shoulder blade. 

“Is this alright?” Obi-wan asked, neck craned in an attempts to maintain eye contact. As if what they were doing was less precarious if they kept looking. 

“Yeah, you can keep going.” Anakin whispered, chest rumbling under Obi-wan’s hand, which was behind the cape, the thick fabric doing little to buffer the vibrations.

Obi-wan thought for a moment to the affections he had seen couples engage in before. He wasn’t one to casually initiate physical contact, and he knew that Anakin was in the same mindset. Which only made his heart beat harder as he slowly guided Anakin’s hand to rest at his lower back. Anakin followed his lead easily, and even pressed into the fabric he met once Obi-wan untangled their fingers. Obi-wan felt lightheaded, but grounded. It was intoxicating. 

They seemed to stay like that for a small eternity, before Anakin’s eyes flickered away from Obi-wan’s for the briefest of seconds.

“May I try something?” Anakin asked shakily, voice hoarse. Obi-wan could only nod mutely.

Anakin ran his hand up Obi-wan’s spine from where the man had left it. It set Obi-wan’s skin on fire, despite the layers between them. His thoughts drifted, turning treacherous as he imagined, fleetingly, what it would feel like, if it would feel the same without the cape, without the gloves. His face burned. 

Anakin didn’t seem to notice, using his other hand to lightly trace Obi-wan’s arm, before it came to a rest at his shoulder. 

Anakin wanted to withdraw from where he knew he was headed, but he wanted so desperately to stick around to see what would, what  _ could, _ happen should he continue. Obi-wan’s eyes left his as Anakin delicately moved to hold the back of Obi-wan’s neck. 

“Sorry,” he stammered, flushed, “Is this too much? Should I stop?”

“Anakin,” Obi-wan cut him off. The men locked eyes once more. “You’re alright.”

Anakin watched for any flickers of discomfort as he rubbed his thumb at the nape of his neck. Obi-wan fought not to lean into his touch. Anakin smirked self consciously. Obi-wan responded with a raised eyebrow.

“May I reciprocate?” he asked, eyes holding a smile that, Anakin felt, was just for him. Anakin nodded vigorously.

“Please,” he invited. Obi-wan smiled gently, before it faded as he concentrated. 

He moved his hand, which Anakin had left at his side, and rested it behind Anakin’s neck, thumb tucked behind Anakin’s jaw. Anakin’s eyes fluttered shut, his heart aching for reasons he couldn’t explain. 

“Would, um,” Obi-wan’s voice startled him out of his thoughts, eyes opening to meet his, “would you be comfortable potentially doing this without gloves?”

Anakin slowly removed his hands from where they held on to the shorter man. Obi-wan made to do the same, before a wave through their force bond told him to wait. So he did. Anakin removed his gloves, tossing them to the ground behind Obi-wan as he hesitated before also baring his mechanical hand. He searched his friend’s eyes as he lightly cupped Obi-wan’s jaw with his flesh hand. Obi-wan lightly pressed into the touch, letting Anakin know it was alright. Anakin was shaking in earnest as he brought his mechanical hand up to mirror the gesture on the other side of his face. 

“Anakin, are you alright?” Anakin hadn’t noticed he was shaking.

“I--yeah. I think so,” he trailed off again, looking down to the floor between their feet. He looked back to the gloves behind Obi-wan.

“Actually, would you mind if I put this one back on?” he tilted his head to the right, not wanting to directly mention his mechanical hand.

“Of course, Anakin. This is about what you’re comfortable doing, I will not push you to do anything you are not alright with.”

Anakin smiled gratefully, before slipping out of their embrace to grab his glove. As soon as he withdrew from their tangle of arms, he missed the closeness. He put the glove on faster. His heart was thundering in his chest. So loud to him, that he worried Obi-wan could hear it from a metre away. 

“Now,” Anakin cleared his throat, not looking back at the man behind him, “now that, uh, we’ve established more common … affections… shouldn’t we,” he paused, searching for words. Obi-wan waited patiently. “Shouldn’t we work on more less-platonic ones?”

Obi-wan blinked.  _ That _ was ‘less-platonic’? It had felt so much more so. But, he reasoned, that could be because he hadn’t held anyone like that in years, at the least. At least, when awake.

“I… I think that could be arranged.” Obi-wan said, voice hushed. “What did you have in mind?” he ventured, watching as Anakin flexed his hand to secure the glove.

Anakin turned slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. He was quite pink.

“May I?” he gestured for Obi-wan’s hand. The older man complied, extending his arm towards Anakin’s open palm. Anakin took his hand, holding it so that Obi-wan’s palm was to his fingers, lifting it to brush his lips across the knuckles, as Obi-wan once did for him. Obi-wan’s face softened, but he struggled to not display more than he was able. Anakin pulled lightly, and Obi-wan stepped closer. Anakin then turned the man’s hand, and gently kissed the lower knuckle of his thumb. Turning it over, he exposed Obi-wan’s palm, and met his eyes briefly before he kissed the centre of his palm, eyes shutting. He moved higher, kissing the inside of Obi-wan’s wrist, right above where the sleeve ended. 

Obi-wan couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sight. Of Anakin’s ducked head, gently braided hair, already coming loose, hiding his eyes. The feeling of Anakin’s lips on his hand, the soft skin of his wrist, was electrifying. He shivered. His thoughts threatened to turn against him once more, and at this distance, lack of distance, he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to keep them to himself. He lightly tugged his hand, and Anakin let it withdraw from his grasp, eyes looking up questioningly. Worriedly. 

Obi-wan needed to get back in control of the situation. And  _ fast. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this update came later than normal schedule - mental health slipped and i reverted to less-than-healthy coping mechanisms. writing is better for me than those, though, so i'll try to keep on it.  
> as always, your comments make my day.  
> stay safe  
> x spiders


	16. Secrets I have held in my heart are harder to hide than I thought

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> emotions, dinner parties, and angst, oh my!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this is late, it took forever to write, and i had a lapse in motivation. not completely sure if it's over or not, but, here you go.
> 
> chapter title from "I Wanna Be Yours" by Arctic Monkeys

_ “Anakin,” _ Obi-wan sighed, searching the man’s eyes, but he didn’t know what he was looking for.

“Obi-wan?” he answered, voice shy. His features were stark in the dim lighting of the shuttle. With his back to the viewport, Obi-wan was given the full view of Anakin’s widened pupils, eyes straining to see every inch of Obi-wan’s shadowed face in the darkness that contrasted the soft blue halo of light. 

“Is it… am I overstepping?” Anakin whispered, brow furrowed as he tried to understand what Obi-wan wasn’t clearly communicating. Obi-wan swallowed, Anakin’s eyes flickering down to trace the movement. 

It was becoming difficult to distinguish what he was doing for the sake of the mission from what he was indulging in for himself. 

“We need to, to start using the names. When doing this.” Obi-wan stumbled, heart not in his words. “For the mission.” he added. 

Anakin stepped closer to him, resting his forefinger on Obi-wan’s chest.

“Ben?” he said softly, waiting for Obi-wan’s lead. Obi-wan mirrored the gesture, his finger on Anakin’s sternum, the near-sheer fabric warm from his chest. 

“Owen.” he whispered, staring at the sight of Anakin’s chest beneath his finger and the fabric. He hesitated before uncurling his hand, placing his palm directly over Anakin’s heart. He could feel it, faintly, as it hammered within the man’s ribcage. The feeling of it was distracting beyond belief. He could feel his resolve slipping, he felt his chest ache. 

His eyes went wide as he stared at his hand. He was transfixed with disbelief as he came to the sharp realisation that he was very attracted to the man beneath his palm. And now, he wouldn’t have time to process it. He would need to play a role that was already proving incredibly taxing. He would now constantly be aware of it whenever he was around Anakin. And he would feel the same ache with every moment they touched,  _ especially _ when it was like this. His throat suddenly felt  _ very _ dry. He wanted to get away, but he was frozen in place. He didn’t want to move away. 

Anakin moved his hand from Obi-wan’s chest to lightly rest under his chin, using the gentlest of movements to encourage the older man to meet his gaze. Obi-wan complied, but he avoided Anakin’s eyes for as long as he could, before he looked up. 

_ It’s just a mission. Just an act. Step up, Kenobi. _ He mentally chided himself for allowing his emotions to interfere with his ability to complete the mission.

“Are you alright?” Anakin searched his face, and Obi-wan felt that Anakin was asking  _ him, _ Obi-wan, not Ben, of his wellbeing.  _ Just an act. Just an act.  _

“I’m afraid you’re just going to have to get used to kissing me, aren’t you?” Obi-wan replied, scared, but trying to lighten the mood with a self depreciating comment, a thinly veiled challenge, a question written under his words.

“I’m afraid so,” Anakin said, voice wavering, but he didn’t stutter this time. “Ben, was it?” Obi-wan resisted the urge to roll his eyes, already wound up.

“Do it, darling.” he bit back, tone juxtaposing the worry in his eyes, the pet name more of a self-serving courtesy than a line in their play. Anakin’s eyes bore into his, reading him so thoroughly that it was almost difficult to discern if he was using the force or not. But Obi-wan knew him. He was doing no such thing. Once again, he cursed his lack of a beard. 

Anakin lightly traced his gloved thumb over Obi-wan’s bottom lip, his eyes almost predatory in their attention to the movement. Obi-wan kissed his thumb, silently reassuring Anakin that he was alright. Anakin shifted his hand then, thumb moving to his cheek, forefinger tracing the corner of his jaw. He stilled, resolve beginning to abandon him. Obi-wan briefly saw flashes of Anakin’s memories, people taking what they wanted from him. His hesitance to move any closer, the fears of being left alone, of being used, of being little more than just a tool for others to use and discard as they wanted. 

“May I?” Obi-wan whispered, his breath dancing across Anakin’s gloved hand. Anakin met his eyes, expression raw. Obi-wan held his gaze, waiting patiently. Anakin looked down to Obi-wan’s lips, and nodded minutely as he glanced back to his eyes. 

Obi-wan’s eyes fluttered shut as he leaned in, the mantra of  _ ‘just an act, just an act, just an act’ _ ringing through his mind as he reached for Anakin’s neck, lightly guiding the taller man to him. He felt the man’s breath on his face as he neared him, and the brush of Anakin’s lips against his nose as the man misjudged the height difference, exaggerated by the boots he wore. Smiling faintly, he tilted Anakin’s head down, eyes opening just enough so that he was sure that the angle was just right. 

His skin was on fire when Anakin’s lips brushed his, the sensation causing tiny arcs of lightening to course across his chest and shoulders, originating suspiciously close to his heart. He could feel Anakin’s breath on his lips, the man’s hand cradling his jaw. He tilted his head back a fraction more, before closing the millimeter gap between them. 

Anakin shuddered as Obi-wan pressed his lips to his own. He didn’t realise he was holding his breath until Obi-wan leaned back, whispering a gentle instruction to  _ ‘breathe,’ _ before returning to Anakin’s mouth. Anakin tried not to gasp when Obi-wan moved his lips, before returning the kiss to the man. He breathed in sharply through his nose, relief that he didn’t recognise the source of flooding through his body. He couldn’t even find it in him to curse himself for just how right it felt. It was like he was burning, like he had been burning, unknowingly, for ages before this moment. He felt at peace. 

Obi-wan drew back, lessening his hold on the man’s neck as he waited for his head to stop spinning. As he opened his eyes, he noted that Anakin’s were still shut. He chalked it up to wishful thinking that he imagined a faint smile on his face, gentle beyond belief and easing the strain that had long-since taken up residence on his brow. 

Anakin willed his body to behave. The thundering of his heart, slow but powerful, in his chest seemed to deafen him. His slightly uneven breathing, inhales longer than exhales, seemed to unbalance him. He cracked open his heavy eyelids to see Obi-wan staring at him, face holding an expression he had no name for. He leaned in once more, hesitating before pecking him lightly on the lips. He felt intoxicated. He lifted his flesh hand to rest at the side of Obi-wan’s neck, bare thumb lightly tracing the expensive collar, feeling the warmth of the skin just beyond it. Obi-wan reached up, hesitantly tracing Anakin’s scar with his thumb as he moved to hold Anakin by the sides of his face, pulling him down. Anakin shuddered at the contact, pressing his lips against Obi-wan’s almost desperately. He felt like he was drowning, and the comforting presence of his old friend the only lifeline in sight. They kissed deeply, lips finding a rhythm as they clung to each other. Anakin could almost pretend they were doing this under another circumstance. 

Almost. 

Feeling guilty for exploiting the demands of the mission, he let the kiss fade, hands sliding from the man’s face to rest on his shoulders. 

“Are you alright, do you need a break?” Obi-wan whispered, absentmindedly caressing the scar adorning Anakin’s cheek. Anakin nodded, not knowing what else to say. Obi-wan let his hands trail as he released the man from his semi-embrace. Anakin caught his hand as it left, giving it a squeeze.

“Thank you,” he said, the sincerity in his words making Obi-wan’s breath hitch. He nodded, mutely, as he watched Anakin return to the pilot’s chair. Not knowing what else to do, he settled down to meditate. Ignoring the suggestive beeping from the droid near his knees. 

They arrived to Onderon rather uneventfully. The landing point was a suspended landing pad connected to a colossal grey and gold mansion. Waiting for them was a small greeting party, four guards or advisors of some sort, and a tall human in the centre. 

As the shuttle landed, the two men looked at each other once more, stowing their lightsabres inside one of R2-D2’s compartments. Obi-wan nodded, and Anakin lowered the ramp. As they walked down, suitcases in hand, they were approached by the leader, a tall man in turquoise who must have been Krell, the host of the meetings they were to be attending. 

“Ah, welcome! It is a pleasure to meet you, misters Starkiller and Korse. I am Tyberus Krell,” the men shook hands. “Shall I have your bags fetched for you?”

“Please.” Obi-wan laughed, “I do hope you forgive our timing, the journey was long.” he smirked at Anakin, who grinned in return. It was easy enough to follow Obi-wan’s lead here, he felt thoroughly out of his depth.

“Indeed, travelling from Corellia to Onderon does take some hours, even with the latest hyperspace technologies in place.”

“So it would seem. However,” Obi-wan leaned closer to Krell, who leaned down to better hear him. “You would find that the looks of our transportation are very… misleading.” Obi-wan said in a hush, as if it were a secret to be shared between the two strangers. Krell laughed, tossing his head back.

“Oh, I do  _ like _ you,” he surveyed Obi-wan, “Mr…?”

“Korse. But you may call me Benntal.” Obi-wan winked, and Anakin felt the need to step up. He slipped an arm around Obi-wan’s shoulders, giving Krell a once-over.

“Do forgive my manners, Mr Krell, this is my companion, Owen.”

Anakin nodded to the tall man, smirking as the man’s eyebrows raised minutely.

“Starkiller. We have been anxious to meet you,” Anakin laced his words with the charm he could muster.

“And I you,” Krell recovered quickly. “I hear that you managed to wrest a spice supply and refinery away from Republic control. This is an impressive feat,” he congratulated. “I am keen on hearing what you have to bring to the table. The first negotiations will be taking place in two days time, to allow for our guests to arrive and make themselves comfortable. In the meantime, we will be dining at regular hours, and be giving tours of the Manor.”

“The building is quite impressive,” Anakin chimed in, “You are gracious for allowing the talks to take place here, rather than in another… less than desirable… location.” Anakin’s bait proved successful, as the man preened under the praise, and loosened up.

“It is, isn’t it? It has been in my family for generations, and it used to host all types of gatherings before the war broke out,” Krell sighed, “but now, it is reduced to only negotiations and the surrounding activities.”

“It is a pity to see such a monument only used sparingly,” Obi-wan added, sympathy flooding his voice. “If all goes well, hopefully it shall be returned to its former glory.”

Krell’s posture straightened at the suggestion, proud smile adorning his face. “To the future then,” he smiled, as the doors opened to admit them.

The hallway stretched on, graceful pillars of grey stone soaring above them, geometric patterns delicately outlined in gold. A rich scarlet carpet complimented the serene colour palette, and muffled their footfalls. Anakin was glad they left Artoo with the ship, the droid wouldn’t have shut up about the feel of the carpet on his wheels.

The hallway opened up to a ballroom, with high windows letting in the light from outside, some of which were open, exposing small balconies. The room was configured into a lounge of sorts, with many plush chairs, small fire circles lit between them, and a standing bar in the corner. All were a posh jet black, and made the otherwise large room feel intimate, but not claustrophobically so. Anakin estimated it could hold two hundred people quite easily.

“This is the main room that we will convene in for less formal discussions. Tonight, we have a dinner party at 2100, and it would  _ so _ please me if you would attend,” he glanced over the men next to him, eyes lingering. “There you will meet some of our other attendees, most from the Confederacy of Independent Systems, but also a few from more… unsavory backgrounds.”

“Oh?” Anakin prompted, stopping so that Krell turned to face him.

“Yes, some other spice runners, war profiteers… a few well-behaved pirates.”

“Pirates?” Anakin gasped, flirting, “what sort of pirates?”

“They will blow you away, if you haven’t met their sort before. Very… exotic,” Krell laughed, raking his eyes over Obi-wan. 

“Now, shall I show you to your rooms? Your bags have been delivered already.”

The men nodded, and followed the tall blond from the room. 

“I don’t like him,” Anakin spat as soon as the door was shut, and Krell away.

“I would  _ never _ have guessed,” Obi-wan muttered, unlocking their suitcases, which had been deposited on the bed. The room itself was exquisite: a narrow floor-to-ceiling window took up the centre of the far wall, and it opened on to a semicircular balcony with a carved stone railing. It had heavy drapes around it, but they had been opened, allowing the clear light to illuminate the majority of the room. The room felt ridiculous. The bed was needlessly large, almost three metres by four, the connecting bathroom was larger than the main room of the shuttle they flew in on. Compared to the blissfully simplistic life at the Temple, the whole situation was garish. 

Anakin glared at Obi-wan, and Obi-wan could feel it boring into the back of his head. He sighed, flipping around to lean against the bed. 

“Talk to me.” he ordered, crossing his arms over his chest. Anakin rolled his eyes, looking away. Obi-wan watched him carefully. Anakin furrowed his brows, and glanced back, lifting a finger to his lips. Obi-wan frowned, and remained silent as he followed Anakin. 

Leaning against the wall, Anakin reached down, and pulled the curtain lightly away, exposing a small listening device. The light was blinking steadily, so it hadn’t been actively listening, but that could change in an instant. They shared a glance.

_ This will complicate things. _ Obi-wan echoed in their bond. Anakin’s face morphed into something that embodied a  _ ‘no shit’ _ sentiment. 

_ Continue the dialogue, even in private. _ Anakin warned. This was going to get old.

“What if I don’t want to talk?” Anakin grumbled, moving back to where he had been previously. Obi-wan followed suit.

“What do you mean, Owen?” he sighed heavily. Anakin looked at him meaningfully.

_ I think I found a way to trick the bug. _

_ Really? _

“Come here,” Anakin mumbled. He jumped on the bed, and Obi-wan shot him a look that quite clearly asked  _ ‘what in the blazes are you doing’? _ He followed him anyway. 

“Ben?”   
“Yes?” 

Anakin’s eyes widened, and he grinned. He pointed at the device, which had stopped blinking, and gone dark.

“Do you have any thoughts about the route? If this operation will prove successful?” he said, keeping his tone light, but watching it nonetheless. 

The device’s light went on, and stayed steady. Obi-wan raised his eyebrows, intrigued.

“I’d rather not talk politics right now, dear.” the light resumed blinking. 

_ Intriguing. It seems to have been programmed more intricately than a standard listening-in. _

“What time is it?” Anakin asked, voice barely above a whisper. The bug kept blinking. 

“Half past 1900. We have time to kill,” Obi-wan changed his tone, making it more playful. Anakin’s face reddened, but the bug turned off. His eyes widened once again.

_ This thing is  _ super _ sophisticated. _ He almost shouted into the bond.  _ Tone recognition? How long has this thing been here, because it can’t have been installed recently. _

Obi-wan bit the inside of his cheek, the nervous tick more pronounced under his smooth shaven face. 

_ Krell did say that the house was old. And that it had been in the hands of wealth for generations.  _

Anakin groaned, and flopped back on the bed. He pressed his palms into his eyes, so hard that he began to see stars. 

“How do you sleep like this? It’s so uncomfortable.” Anakin complained, receiving a laugh from the man near him, who also fell back on the bed.

“Oh my,” Obi-wan breathed, face reddening. 

“What?” Anakin said, not moving his hands.

“Um… it’s… uh…” his eyes were transfixed on the ceiling. 

The ceiling was at least five metres above them, but it had been warped, and the entire thing was a mirrored surface that magnified the room, making it seem that Obi-wan was staring into his own eyes from a short distance away. Looking up, he could see how Anakin’s chest expanded with his inhales, how his face had relaxed beneath his palms. 

“What? What is it?” Anakin demanded, not wanting to move.

“Ceiling?” Obi-wan winced, his voice higher than he expected. He found his eyes stuck to Anakin’s as the man threw his palms off of his eyes, blinking as his eyes adjusted. Anakin frowned, eyes widening.

“Um.”

“Yeah.”

“That’s… weird.”

They met each other’s eyes in the mirrored ceiling. They were an arms length from one another, but it seemed to be too far, too close, at the same time. Anakin felt the need to do something -- anything -- to break the tension that had settled on them. 

“Do you think any really old people look up here when going at it?” he wrenched his eyes away from Obi-wan’s reflection, turning to rest on his elbow, propped up.

Obi-wan’s face went bright red, and it took him a second to correct his name usage before admonishing the man next to him.  _ “Owen!” _ he sounded scandalised. 

“What! It’s a fair question!”

“You are…  _ truly _ … something else.”

Anakin laughed, feeling a bit more like himself. 

“Am I  _ wrong?” _ Obi-wan leaned up, and lightly shoved Anakin’s shoulder. 

“I didn’t need the mental image. So thank you for that,” he admonished. Anakn laughed again, falling back dramatically from the shove. 

“I feel like I’ve lost my mind,” Anakin whispered between laughs. Obi-wan frowned, still smiling.

“And why’s that?” Anakin remained silent for a moment, staring up at his reflection.

“I dunno.” Obi-wan wasn’t convinced. But he let it slide. He’d ask again later.

“Should we get ready to look around before dinner?” Obi-wan changed the subject. Anakin frowned, looking back at him. 

“What do you mean? Am I not decent as-is?”

“No, no, of course you are, but you travelled in that. You don’t attend dinners in your travelling attire.”

“Are you fucking serious? This is  _ elaborate! _ What am I supposed to do, wear a  _ painting _ to dress it up?”

Obi-wan rolled his eyes, before leaning up and jumping off the bed. He walked over to where the suitcases were, and opened Anakin’s.

“Oh good, they had the foresight to sort outfits for you. Here,” he tossed a package of clothing at Anakin. The label simply said ‘casual dinner’. “Slip this on. You can use the bathroom to change.”

Anakin sighed, but caught the parcel, heading into the bathroom. 

Shutting the door behind him, he sighed. It was a relief to have a moment to himself. The act was killing him. It didn’t help that Obi-wan was so seamless in his presentation of it. Anakin looked at himself in the mirror. He didn’t recognise the man staring back at him. The man looking at him seemed tired, which was familiar. But he looked older, the elegant clothing he had travelled in making him seem like a stranger. 

He glanced down at the parcel sitting on the counter near him. He went over to it, opening it gently. It seemed that he had a colour scheme, the exposed fabric the colour of midnight, much lighter in weight than his cape, but as sheer as the shirt he wore. Rolling his eyes, he quickly tugged off his previous shirt before slipping this one on. He debated if he had the energy, or the inclination, to change his pants. Groaning, he changed into the new ones, belting the shirt so it wouldn’t billow out with every passing breeze. He felt a bit more like himself in this one.

“You surely took your time,” Obi-wan greeted as he opened the door. Anakin threw his bundled up travel shirt at him. Obi-wan caught it easily, smirking. His outfit was remarkably similar to what he wore earlier, but the cape was gone, and the shirt was similar to Anakin’s, though burgundy.

“Whatever. Should we go?” Anakin looked away.

“We shall.” Obi-wan offered Anakin his elbow. Anakin frowned at the gesture, before Obi-wan wiggled it and Anakin sighed, slipping his arm through Obi-wan’s. 

“United front.” Obi-wan whispered, opening the door. Anakin sent a quick prayer to the force that the evening would be over soon. 

The evening went by in a painfully slow blur, but a blur nonetheless, thanks to the alcohol they had on hand. Anakin let Obi-wan be the social one, and just stuck to the man’s side, an arm loosely wrapped around his waist. He watched as Obi-wan made small talk with a variety of people, most very wealthy and not from the Republic. Among them was a woman who stood out to Anakin in particular, a pale woman with short hair and high cheekbones. She was a representative of the Confederacy of Independent Systems, and she exuded a sense of casual aggression. She had taken an interest in Obi-wan, and seemed to ignore Anakin entirely. 

“So, Mr Korse, are you here alone?” she sipped her drink, watching Obi-wan over the rim of her glass.

“I am not, this is my counterpart, Owen Starkiller.” He turned, leaning a bit into Anakin as he presented the taller man.

“It is a pleasure to finally gain your attention, Madame…?”

“Nina Titan. I apologise if I did not notice your presence, so trapped to this man’s side.” she sneered, lip curling up at Anakin. The expression left her face as she turned back to Obi-wan.

“Where is your stake in the spice market, Mr Korse?” she sipped again, eyes not leaving Obi-wan.

“We have recently come into possession of an emancipated spice supply, and have access to a trade route from Kessel to Corellia.” Nina gasped, eyes widening.

“That is  _ very _ interesting to hear. Does the Republic not sweep the space surrounding their stake on Kessel?”

Obi-wan laughed, smug, “Oh they do.”

“Is it not playing a risk, then?”

“It absolutely is, Madame Titan. However,” he leant in conspiratorially, much to Anakin’s displeasure, “they do not look, for what they are too arrogant to expect.”

Nina leaned back, smiling knowingly.

“How  _ very _ fascinating.”

Obi-wan nodded, before taking the drink from Anakin’s hand and taking a tentative sip. He frowned slightly, before handing it back.

“So, Mr Korse…” the attention of both men was drawn back to the woman opposite them. “Shall we discuss your route in more detail? Perhaps in a more… private place?”

Anakin’s arm stiffened around Obi-wan, the older man sensing his distaste at the suggestion, and his jealousy. 

“I’m going to have to decline your… generous… offer, Madame Titan-”

“- Nina.”

“Nina. Because I am very comfortable right here, and we could always discuss another time.”

“Oh, Mr Korse, you naïve thing,” she laughed, “I am asking if you’d like to come back to my rooms with me.”

“Nina. I am flattered, but I am here with my companion, Owen, and we are just about to go to bed. Aren’t we, dear?” Anakin was still blinking at the woman, very puzzled at her forwardness, and her lack of consideration for him.

“Yes, love, let’s be on our way.” 

Obi-wan smiled politely at the woman before he and Anakin walked back to their room. Anakin felt slightly queasy, and Obi-wan was peeved at the utter disregard for Anakin that Nina had displayed. 

“Are you alright?” he asked gently as Anakin fell face-first on to the bed. 

“Do I look alright?” he muttered into the bedding. Obi-wan couldn’t hear him very well.

“Was it her?”

Anakin heaved a sigh, before shrugging. He turned his head so that his chin was propped up on the bed, throat strained awkwardly. 

“You let her get pretty close to you before you got her to shove off,  _ Ben.” _

Obi-wan pursed his lips.

“I was waiting for her to take a hint that I was trying to, diplomatically, give to her without embarrassing her.”

“Sure, sure.”

Obi-wan crossed his arms, flicking his gaze over to the bug, which was beeping steadily.

“Dear, I  _ am  _ trying to understand you, but I can’t read your mind.” Anakin laughed bitterly.

“Sure.”

Obi-wan sighed again. “I am sorry.”

“It’s not my fault you’re seemingly  _ irresistible. _ I’ll just fuck right off then.”

His eyes widened in understanding.

“She made you feel lesser, like you were invisible.”

“Ten points to Benntal Korse, ladies, gentlemen, and others!” Anakin said, channeling his inner announcer. 

“I am sorry for my gracelessness when handling the situation. I should have shut it down sooner.”

Anakin rolled off the bed, shucking off his boots before wiggling under the covers in his dinner clothes.

“Whatever.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let me know your thoughts x
> 
> ALSO! if you're enby/ftm/other and you're binding (my brother tipped me off to this), be sure to drink twice as much water during heat waves! (he passed out, it was hilarious at first, he's fine now, but jsyk)
> 
> and y'all prolly don't care but   
> 1) i miss grindr :(  
> 2) i am depressed as hell, so chapters will probably be slower to upload than the daily thing i had going on for a while  
> 3) yes the second link i posted two (?) chapters ago is broken, i'm not intending to fix it. BUT, if you've made anything/had inspiration from this AT ALL, i would LOVE to see/hear/learn about it. i can write (sometimes) but that's pretty much it.
> 
> stay safe, be kind to those around you, times aren't easy.  
> xo spiders


	17. Don't know where I go when I die, must be better than this

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sorry this is late, but it is twice as long xo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from "Redeemer" by Palaye Royale. "On Top" by the Killers also had a large influence on the first half of the chapter.

A day later was the start of the spice negotiations. Which simply meant: evenings as usual, fancier clothes, a  _ lot _ more people to mingle with.

Anakin had also been tipped off about a force-sensitive to be attending the negotiations, so as long as he and Obi-Wan didn’t communicate through the force, they should be relatively undercover. Apparently this one could only pick up on thoughts through the force, not other beings. Which worked in their favour, for now.

That Nina woman seemed to keep a healthy distance of half a metre from Obi-Wan whenever she could. It infuriated Anakin to no end, which he told himself was just about preserving the sanctity of the mission, but she seemed to try to distance herself whenever Anakin came near. It still bugged him. 

Nights were… awkward, to say the least. He kept noticing how Obi-Wan sleeping on his back made them compatible, as Anakin himself sleeps on his stomach, he wondered how it would feel like to sleep with his chest to the man’s. He hates how big the bed was. It let him ignore Obi-Wan perfectly, and left him no loophole to get over himself with. The man was also infuriatingly kind, and was giving him the space Anakin tried to make himself think he needed. 

Anakin sighed heavily as he reflected on his current predicament. It was an hour before they needed to get up, and Obi-Wan was still asleep, face to the mirrored ceiling. He looked over to him once again. The soft light filtering through the inner sheer curtains made his features soft. His face looked like a mask, in a way; without his beard -- which over the years, Anakin had grown used to, and possibly even fond of -- he seemed vulnerable. It didn’t suit him. Anakin missed it, missed his Obi-Wan. Not the man next to him, acting as a spice monger, flirting with others without his witty comments, instead relying on his face. But this man, the feigned Benntal Korse, was Anakin’s opportunity to touch his friend, to feel the breath on his lips from another, to hold him, so casually, around others. To say  _ he’s mine, and I am his, _ so needlessly with such a gesture. It made his heart ache more than it did before the mission. He feared what would become of them after the act was over. Back to where they were? Who they were to each other? The thought scared him. The thought of losing this, losing  _ him _ in a way, made his heart grow cold. This was why he tried to distance their activities in private, no more practice kisses, no more casual hugs. No sleeping in his arms when the nightmares got bad. No genuine, heart wrenching, soft pressing of lips to the back of his flesh hand. 

But their distance behind the scenes was catching the eyes of the sharks on stage. They watched them ruthlessly, be it to see through them, to doubt their commitment to one another, to snatch Obi-Wan away from him. They needed to get over themselves.  _ Anakin _ needed to get over himself. 

He took a steadying breath, eyes on the man nearly a metre away from him. He examined the distance, before making a quick calculation. As gently as he could, he shifted, rolling slightly so that he was centimetres from the man. Obi-Wan remained the same, chest rising and falling evenly. His hands had folded themselves on his chest, lightly enough so that Anakin could  _ improperly _ use the force to lift his arm nearer to himself, before slipping under it, nestling into the man’s ribs. At this angle, Anakin’s chest was tucked into Obi-Wan’s side, his head resting lightly on his shoulder, the arm he moved resting over his spine and scapula, cradling his head where it was. 

He felt Obi-Wan’s force signature flutter as he drew closer to wakefulness, so Anakin sent a light suggestion to him that he should relax. He did, and Anakin felt his breathing return to the normal cycle it had taken up all night. Anakin closed his eyes, letting himself drift off once more, the steadying sound of Obi-Wan’s heartbeat guiding him into sleep.

Obi-Wan woke up nearly ten minutes later, feeling pleasantly warm on one half of his body, rather cold on the other. Glancing to the warm side, he saw a mess of curly hair resting on his shoulder, and a navy blue sleep shirt next to his own maroon one. He smiled softly to himself, still very much asleep mentally, and then turned to examine his other side. The covers had been pulled towards the centre of the bed, exposing his thin sleeping garments to the cool air. He tugged the covers so that his leg was covered once again, and he could feel himself warm back up. Glancing back at Anakin, he saw that the man had managed to wiggle himself under Obi-Wan’s arm, and was currently using him as a pillow. Not that he minded, but his arm was slightly numb, and he felt pin pricks when he flexed his fingers. He called on the force to help him pull the man higher, so that Anakin’s shoulder was slotted underneath Obi-Wan’s, and his head was nestled in the crook of Obi-Wan’s neck. He winced slightly, trying to dispel the fatigue in his hand. After a minute, it faded, and he let his arm drape over Anakin’s back, lightly resting his hand on the man’s hip. 

He hoped this meant that Anakin was doing better, the last night had been as tense as the first, with Anakin giving him clipped answers to questions, refusing to let him in. It didn't help that not only was Nina attempting to woo him, she was blatantly ignoring Anakin’s existence. He was used to fending people off of Anakin with a stick, but now that someone had seemingly taken interest in him, he was lost. It was easier to tell someone to politely  _ go fuck themselves _ if it wasn’t him that was the target of their fixation. Part of him had initially wanted to see how far the woman would go to get his attention, because it gave him another thing to focus on for his less-than professional feelings around Anakin. But then he had stated that it was for the sake of Benntal Korse and Owen Starkiller that he refuse her. He could find someone else to occupy his treacherous needs when they were back on Coruscant. The mission comes first. 

He felt dirty, as if his emotions were making him unclean. How dare he? Anakin had opened himself up to Obi-Wan, shown him the most private parts of his memories, his fears, his traumas. And Obi-Wan had the utter nerve to find himself reveling in their casual touches, the kisses they shared under the pretense of a mission, a play. He enjoyed kissing the man, but the guilt was unforgiving in it’s determination to overshadow the joy with the worry that he was using him. His best friend, his brother in arms. His old Padawan, his constant in the last ten years, longer than that. He felt like a doomed part of a binary star, caught in the man’s orbit, closer than anyone else to him, but forever separated by the space between them that kept everything in balance. Like he danced on eggshells of a thousand creatures. One misstep, and he was done for. 

He liked how the man fit into his side. He liked how he held close to him in public, the way he kissed: slow and unsure, yet confident all the same. He liked how Anakin had modified his mechanical arm, thinking that nobody had noticed, but Obi-Wan saw the durite buried beneath the other metal. He liked the man’s compassion, his silent ways of honouring those who had been lost to him. His strength, having gone through the universe hurling itself at him, and walking out, head high. Quietly, he admired the man’s composure. He may be called emotional by some, but Obi-Wan was the only one he seemed to break down in front of. Laying himself open, baring his soul to him, and Obi-Wan was there to catch him when he fell, when he falls.

His heart melted as he felt the man snuggle closer to him. The feeling was liquid gold, full of joy and compassion, adoration and protectiveness, a novel feeling, yet also one of the most familiar things to him. He could tell that there was something Anakin wasn’t letting on, but he also knew that Anakin preferred to have his space, even if he didn’t ask for it, as Obi-Wan had picked up on his nonverbal cues through the years.

He allowed himself the quiet moment, Anakin curled into his neck, breathing softly. He let himself imagine they were somewhere else, and it was them, not their feigned identities, that allowed Obi-Wan his proximity to the man. The guilt gnawed at him once again, so he reined his mind back in, and simply let himself be in the moment, not taking it for granted. 

Hours later, Anakin found himself pacing the room, Artoo beeping at him from the charging station in the corner. They had fetched the astromech as planned, right before the negotiations were to start. The droid had relayed a message from Quinlan Vos and Master Koon; they were in position and waiting at Kessel at the prearranged landing site, on one of the “emancipated” refineries. Their cover names were simple enough: Quinn and Plok respectively. Anakin did know that the reason for his and Obi-Wan’s wildly different names was because they were the Face division, and would be under the closest scrutiny, but he was slightly envious at the simplicity of their covers. 

He stopped pacing, and glanced back at the droid.

“Alright, run the stats by me one mocre time.”

_ Were you listening, or should I pretend you’re just selectively tuning me out? _

“Sorry, buddy,” he grimaced, offering the droid a sheepish expression.

_ Okay now listen up you fucking nerf herder, I’m not repeating it  _ again,  _ because Obi-Wan only had to listen once.  _

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, c’mon,”

_ Shut up! I’m getting to it. The spice route has been under the Korse-Starkiller brand for two standard months now, and you have access to the fanciest, most slave-labour driven spice mine of them all. _

Anakin cringed.

_ And, now that you have it, you won it gambling, by the way. Sabacc. You cheap cheat. Anyways! Korse had access to the refinery through his own influence. You rely on a two-man system to transport  _ all _ of your spice from the refinery on Kessel to Corellia, and that’s what makes it secure.  _

“So, how do we cover for the lack of extra hands? Wouldn’t it take longer?”

_ Awe, look! He  _ can _ listen! It does take longer, but that covers for the security of the system: it’s tight, and the smugglers are thoroughly qualified and checked. _

“Alright… so what else?”

_ You’re willing to cut a cheaper up-front price for Krell on the agreement that you are the primary source of his spice. You don’t need to be the only one, but so long as you hold the majority of his supply, you’re fine with it. _

“Sounds about right. Thanks, buddy, I owe you one.”

_ Oh you owe me a lot more than one, you smooth talking bantha. _

Anakin laughed, fidgeting with the cuff of his sleeve. Obi-Wan exited the ‘fresher, eyebrows raised questioningly at what he was laughing at.

“The droid was just complimenting my flawless manners.”

“Oh, really? The poor thing, maybe we should check his circuits.” Obi-Wan retorted, smirking.

Anakin opened his mouth to protest, then thought better of it, and shrugged. The droid in question beeped maniacally, in a mechanical laugh of sorts. Anakin rolled his eyes, offering Obi-Wan his elbow as they left the room, astromech in tow. 

When they came to the main room where the gatherings had been taking place, they were met with an impressive crowd of impressively affluent people. Artoo wheeled over to the other droids brought by the participants, and docked into a charging station there, despite having been on one for hours previously. The entire scene felt like a casino, but without the slot machines. The decor was dark and elaborate, gold lining surfaces tastefully. The servers hadn’t started carrying around the stronger alcohol, much to Obi-Wan’s dismay, but instead carried plates of light champagne, which bubbled a beautiful turquoise hue. 

Obi-Wan nodded his thanks as he took a glass, before he caught sight of a couple on a couch, in a brightly-lit corner, almost aggressively kissing one another. He nudged Anakin with his elbow, and jerked his head over to the spectacle. Anakin raised his eyebrows, face paling. 

“Is that…” he whispered, “is that allowed?”

Obi-Wan laughed quietly.

“It is interesting how the wealthy seem to forget that they are being watched. Or, perhaps, they know they are.”

Anakin’s face went red, and he cleared his throat to change the subject before someone called for attention.

The crowd turned to face Krell, who was standing on a short table in the centre of the room. He held his own glass of champagne up by his face, waiting as the last chatter faded.

“Welcome, ladies, gentlemen, and others! It is good to see you have all made yourselves at home. Some more than others,” he raised an eyebrow at someone near him, and polite laughter swept the room as they recognised the two lovers from the couch. “Now that we have gotten to know one another a bit more, shall we move to negotiations?”

Someone in the crowd groaned, earning a few more laughs. Anakin felt he was on a television programme that played recorded laughter after jokes one should find amusing. Face tight, he followed along, noting that Obi-Wan had done the same. 

“Oh, don’t fret! Only for an hour today, then we will familiarise ourselves more for the rest of the evening!”

Anakin’s laugh was less feigned then, but it masked his discomfort at the prospect of being around so many people for so long. Especially when he knew that the vast majority of these people would be getting incredibly intoxicated as the night progressed. He felt Obi-Wan squeeze him, and he reigned in his anxiety. Plastered a smile on his face. 

The negotiations were to be set up in a series of pairings, then from the pairings, whichever appealed more to Krell would advance to meet in a council. 

The first group that they were paired with was a group of Toydarians, to Anakin’s internalised discomfort. They had almost immediately ‘passed’ the round, one of Krell’s aides tapping into a datapad the moment they mentioned ‘spiceline from Kessel’, to the Toydarians’ displeasure. But they were civil enough about it, even offering them their business contact information. They chatted for the remainder of the hour, the Toydarian’s taking keen interest in Obi-Wan. Like all of the others, they found him absolutely charming, they clung to every word of Benntal Korse’s escapades amongst the stars, which were really just old missions Obi-Wan had run with Anakin in years past. But, unlike most others, they also wanted to hear what Anakin had to say, and were respectful of his attachment to Obi-Wan. They escorted the humans to the dining area where they introduced Starkiller and Korse to their Rhodian associates, who had also lost their round, but promised to back the two should they need references. 

Anakin couldn’t help but be impressed by the swiftness of the friendly attitude that was bestowed towards him after the Toydarian’s took a liking to him. Those who had avoided his gaze the days before were striking up conversations, and he found himself swept away from Obi-Wan for conversations with strangers the majority of the night. 

It was then he made the acquaintance of a pale woman named Asa, a guardian of a Separatist representative. She had heavy dark eye makeup on, which made her icy gaze all the more penetrating. But she was sweet, and took his feigned intoxication at face value, treating him as if he were a lost child, her voice gravelly but pleasant all the same. 

“Asa?” Anakin whined, “where are we going?” 

The pale woman laughed, Anakin’s hand latched around her wrist. He playfully dragged along, slowing her pace as she wove between people, at times swatting at wandering hands aimed towards the man.

“Owen, darling, we’re finding your accomplice.”

“My- my  _ what? _ Oh! You mean,” he giggled to add to the act, “my  _ boyfriend.” _ he whispered. She laughed, tossing her head back, the movement accentuated by the golden headpiece she wore. It suited her, Anakin thought passively, matching the dashing metallic suit she wore, making her waist seem impossibly cinched by the belt. 

“Yes, dear, your Benntal has been looking for you.” she dropped her voice, “and the senators seemed to want to engage in less-than-civil conduct with you, in your given state. You should probably head to bed, sleep it off.”

“Awe, that’s too bad,” he sniffed, “I was having  _ such _ fun! Will I see you tomorrow, Asa-dear?”

She smiled, rolling her eyes ever so slightly.

“I’m afraid not, but it was a pleasure to meet you. Oh look, here Benntal is now.”

Obi-Wan heaved a sigh of relief when Anakin was back in his sight, swaying on the arm of a tall woman in gold, who pressed her lips lightly to his forehead before guiding Anakin back on to his own feet. She waved to Obi-Wan daintily as Anakin stumbled across the floor towards him, throwing himself in Obi-Wan’s arms with reckless abandon, the older man barely catching him. 

He went to return the wave in thanks, but the woman was gone. 

“Need to talk,” Anakin whispered as Obi-Wan went about checking his face, his tone startlingly sober given the show he put on to sell the contrary. Obi-Wan nodded, smiling in a  _ ‘forgive me, he needs a moment’ _ look to the group he had been chatting with as he scanned for his wayward companion. 

Anakin dragged them to a booth in the corner, relatively well-shaded, before sliding in, pulling Obi-Wan behind him. He sluggishly pulled himself on top of Obi-Wan, the man’s face pink as his hand flew to the back of Anakin’s head, ensuring that the casual glance from anyone would lead to them turning away fast enough. Anakin pressed his nose into Obi-Wan’s neck.

“So, I think I found our force-sensitive friend.” he whispered, rubbing his cheek against Obi-Wan’s jaw. 

“Oh really?” Obi-Wan breathed, eyes fluttering shut, working to pull himself away from the force, should someone try to listen in. 

“Asa. The woman I was with,” he leaned his head back, body arching into Obi-Wan’s wantonly. Obi-Wan had to stifle a noise building in his throat. 

“How could you tell?”

“I grabbed her wrist, felt it.”

Obi-Wan reached around Anakin, to pull him back to his face, their foreheads touching. 

“Are you certain?”

“Absolutely, but she’s leaving tonight, escorting a Separatist senator, apparently.” Anakin rolled his shoulders, stretching his neck to the side, pushing his chest into Obi-Wan’s.

“That should make things easier. Could you determine her signature?”

“No,” Anakin’s mouth mumbled against Obi-Wan’s own. “But she seemed familiar.”

It was then that someone giggled from nearby, causing Obi-Wan to jump a bit, and Anakin to slump forwards into the space between his shoulder and neck. 

“Oh I do apologise! Don’t stop on our account! We can find-  _ oh! _ \- somewhere else.” a frilly voice bubbled, Obi-Wan smiling meekly at the woman and her two Rhodian partners, who were busy fussing with the layers of her clothing, clinging to her like mynocks to exposed wiring. 

“Oh we were just leaving,” Obi-Wan recovered smoothly. “He’s a bit of a lightweight,” he winked, as if it was a secret between them. A habit which annoyed Anakin to no end.

“‘M not lightweight, you just look around too much.” Anakin mumbled loudly, the woman’s eyes widening, finding the situation amusing.

“Well, seems you two have some talking to do,” she winked at him, voice laced ith innuendo, Obi-Wan’s face now beet red. He waved shyly, pulling Anakin up with him as he exited the booth. Just in time, it seemed, as they had successfully undone her bodice, exposing her, and the more feminine of the two Rhodians was working on amorously devouring her left breast as she stood, marks already covering her dark skin. 

They made a hasty retreat back to their room, where Artoo had already fled to hours previously. 

As the door closed, Anakin threw himself face-first on to the bed.

“What is it?” Obi-Wan asked, locking the door behind them, and throwing a blanket over the astromech, who let out a string of  _ what the fuckity fuck do you think you’re doing you entitled bastard-! _ that trailed into muffled beeps. 

“I did  _ not _ need to see the damage the Rhodians were lavishly inflicting on Senator Berlioz. I’ll never be able to look her in the face.”

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes at the man’s antics, walking over to the wardrobe that he had set up, stripping off his tunic and replacing it with a sleep shirt. He changed in silence as Anakin continued to lament his scarred mind’s eye, and how his sleep would be awful.

“Well, I don’t see why you’re complaining, you  _ do _ have to feign an attraction to  _ me _ of all people for two weeks.” Obi-Wan huffed a sarcastic laugh, careful to keep his eyes away from the suddenly silent Anakin.

“Why would you say that?” a tinge of a laugh leaving his words as he switched places with Obi-Wan, not looking at the man. Obi-Wan burrowed under the covers, chastising himself for the comment already. 

“Please, don’t mind me. I’ve drank quite a bit,” he cringed at the half-truth, “I’m not myself.”

Anakin said nothing, but once he slipped under the covers on his own side of the bed, he turned off the light. He curled towards Obi-Wan, who almost melted into the contact. 

“You’re an idiot,” he whispered as they both sank into sleep.

_ Of course I am, _ Obi-Wan thought to himself, sighing through his nose as he pressed his face into Anakin’s curls. 

The next few days passed quickly, the tense negotiations bled into boozy nights, into late mornings, and repeated the cycle in a tiring routine. It was on the fifth day of negotiations, one week after they landed, that they made a breakthrough. Krell wanted to contact their smugglers. 

It went incredibly well, Krell taking a liking to ‘Quinn’ and his quick wit, and the security of the spice run itself. Master Koon remained silent and hooded, but that didn’t seem to perturb Krell, who was used to those who preferred to keep their anonymity. 

On the eighth day of negotiations, Krell signed to receive forty percent of his spice from Korse-Starkiller, and split the remaining sixty amongst four other spice suppliers, none of which were Seperatist. They had successfully sabotaged the plot to devalue Republic spice supplies, and the contract made it so that Krell would only deal with the shipments, and not the people. This would last for a standard year, and by that time, they would have beyond found Republic-friendly replacements for Quinn and Plok to run the spice. 

The smooth process eliminated the need for Hunt and Extraction to intervene at all, Krell hadn’t pressed into the operation, as charmed as he was by both Obi-Wan and Quinlan’s performances. The Nina woman had been impressed by Obi-Wan’s negotiation tactics, and had offered him her business card, “should he ever need it”, before returning to her ship and deparing for her next engagement on Scipio with the Muuns. 

As they gathered their clothes into the suitcases, Artoo patrolled the room, now free to speak his mind, making scathing comments on the garish decor. 

_ This is a curtain? No, I don’t fucking think so. I’ve seen curtains, and this? This is a carpet. The carpet in the hallway, now  _ that _ is a beautiful carpet. This is a shitty excuse for a carpet strung to the ceiling. And  _ speaking of the ceiling, _ wow. This place is gross, and I can’t wait to get back at the ship. I regret looking up. _

Anakin was laughing so hard he felt a tightness in his side, and wiped tears from his eyes as the droid continued, seeming to redouble his efforts as he was clearly entertaining his captive audience. Obi-Wan was trying not to agree out loud. The place was still bugged, but it had been deactivated, the blinking stopping entirely, and the device not even scanning as an electronic. It was like a ghost. He made sure he grabbed a scan of it, hoping to find some schematics in the Archives about them, and how they worked so well. 

He was more than happy when they boarded the ship. He had only stopped at the ramp to give Krell a strong handshake, and let his eyes linger on the man as he walked up into the shuttle. Anakin had kissed the man’s cheek, before winking and strutting into the cockpit. Soon enough, they had left breathable air, and soared away from Onderon. 

Anakin sat back in the pilot’s chair, breathing out heavily. He rubbed his palms into his eyes, and let his senses stretch out, feeling around the shuttle for anything out of the normal. Just when he thought it was clear, he felt it. A light mechanical pulse, from beneath the ship. A tracking fob.

“Hey,” he said, patting Obi-Wan’s arm to gain the man’s attention.

“Yes…?”

“We need to ditch the ship. We’re being tracked.”

“Can you sense it? Is it the same as the bugs in Krell’s manor?”

“No… the frequency is different. It feels different in the force, when I focus in on it. We need to get rid of it.”

“Without blowing our cover?” he prompted, staring at Anakin, whose eyes widened in an epiphany.

“That’s it!” he shouted, leaning forwards to press a flurry of buttons on the console, hailing Ahsoka.

“Hey kiddo! Where are you?”

“Hey master! You look,” she stifled a laugh, eyes sparking through the hologram, “fancy. I’m just outside of the N-11 sector. What do you need?”

Anakin scanned the controls, their coordinates popping up as rather close to where she should be.

“Alright, so I’m going to need you to be here within five minutes, which should be no problem, as we’re barely a jump away. Look for the wrecked ship--”

“Wrecked ship?” Obi-Wan interjected, “what wrecked ship? Anakin we’re all alone out here how could there be--”

“I’m going to blow up the ship.”

Both Ahsoka and Obi-Wan stared at him, mouths agape. 

“Come again?” Obi-Wan spluttered.

“I’m going to sabotage our engine. Should be easy enough. That way, we’ll have time to grab the droid and jump to the  _ Resolute _ from the escape hatch. We’ll leave the suitcases in case Krell comes searching for us.”

“You’ve lost your mind, my  _ dim _ Padawan.”

“Correction, I’m the only one with a plan to ditch the fob before it exposes our identities, the Republic, and the mission. Do you have a better idea, my  _ brilliant Master?” _

Obi-Wan stared at him blankly. He couldn’t find it in himself to disagree with Anakin, the man had a point. But he would prefer  _ not _ being in a near-death event after the mission had gone smoothly up until this point. 

“Fine. But we’re not doing this again, understood?”

Anakin cracked a smile, rolling his eyes as he turned back to Ahsoka, who still was trying to figure out Anakin’s logic.

“We’ll be there within four minutes. Set your detonation time for three minutes and fifty four seconds from now, that’ll cover the escape hatch being unlocked, and provides a window for us to grab you before jumping to lightspeed.”

“That’s my girl,” Anakin cheered, disconnecting the call. He jumped up, and rushed to duck under the console. 

“Why is it  _ always _ that when I fly with you,  _ something _ must go wrong?” Obi-Wan lamented, sighing heavily.

“C’mon, you love it. It’s exciting!”

“You are way too happy about this, my old friend.”

“Would you rather do something  _ boring _ like letting whoever put the tracker on to figure out we’re on to them, or let Owen and Ben go down in a beautiful blaze of glory in the middle of nowhere?”

Obi-Wan sighed. “How can I help?”

Anakin looked to make sure Obi-Wan had his helmet on, and fixed his own on over his head. There were two boiler suits in the emergency hatch box, and those would suitably protect them for the few seconds they would be in space. Anakin had strapped R2-D2 to his back, and double checked the timer. They had fourteen seconds left. His decision to kill off Owen and Ben from their narrative was cleared by both Mace and Kit, so they were ready to put out the fake obituaries the next day, after their ‘remains’ were discovered by a passing ship.

Anakin pulled a jump cable from his belt, and secured it to Obi-Wan’s. 

“Hope this works!” he chirped, beaming at Obi-Wan. 

Obi-Wan made to say something, but was cut off by the engine overheating and rupturing, which knocked them into the wall. Obi-Wan pulled the hatch, and they shot from the ship like a cork from a bottle.

For a few crushingly silent moments, they rushed through the emptiness of space, the only light from stars so distant that everything was dim. The silence was beyond suffocating. Just on time, the  _ Resolute _ dropped from hyperspace, and the hanger door was opened, allowing them to be pulled into a tractor beam, which guided them inside the main hanger, depositing them on the ground as the shields activated, allowing them to breathe without the suits.

Ahsoka and Rex rushed over, both looking amused and impressed.

“General Skywalker, it is good to see you, sir.” Rex saluted him. Anakin waved, coughing as he removed the helmet. Artoo fussed as Ahsoka released him from Anakin’s back, and he chattered away at the other clones who rushed towards them. 

Anakin groaned, sitting back on his heels, grimacing. Obi-Wan was trying to pop his ears, which had gotten uncomfortably pressurised by the vacuum. 

“General Kenobi?” Rex blinked, helmet at his side.

Ahsoka giggled, noticing Obi-Wan’s face. 

“What?” the man asked, confused. Anakin was similarly slow on the uptake, but then he looked at him. The shaven face was one he had time to adjust to, but apparently nobody else had been notified of the change. 

“Did, did you… forgive the crude language, regress in your aging process?” Anakin cackled, leaning back. Ahsoka tried to hide her laughter behind a hand, but failed to keep the attempt at an act.

Obi-Wan blinked, not comprehending. Rex motioned at his own chin, before tilting his head to the side. Obi-Wan went scarlet.

“Oh!” he swallowed. “No, none of that. We were undercover.”

“That explains the eyeliner,” Ahsoka laughed, eyes tearing up. 

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. Smiling in spite himself. 

“Don’t tell Cody,” he teased, smiling at Rex, who had gone pink at his lapse in understanding. The comment put him a bit more at ease, and he saluted once more before striding off.

The after mission briefing was to be within the hour, and Anakin couldn’t help but feel nervous. Yes, they had succeeded, but they had also, well,  _ Anakin _ had also burned their personas, leaving those overseeing the operation to have to adapt. He felt like he had acted as a major inconvenience, despite knowing also that he had been incredibly useful.

He and Obi-Wan were sharing his room again for the time being. The  _ Negotiator _ was in an inconvenient distant sector, and Obi-Wan, teasing vanity, requested he should be given time to correct his features before speaking to his captain. They kept their disguises on for the time being, as they would need to have their image taken in order to complete the obituary, which would be released in a matter of hours. The meeting went well, and was characteristically short as the cleanup of their operation ensued. Obi-Wan was glad that it went by quickly, they had photos to take, and disguises to escape. Once and for all. 

For the first image, they sat with their backs to the window in Anakin’s room, the soft blue light of hyperspace washing over them. It also disguised the location of the photo, and made it easier for alterations to make them seem younger. They sat with Anakin on a slightly taller stool, directly next to Obi-Wan, who was dead centre to the camera. It took them a couple tries to get a capture they were satisfied with, Anakin using the remote trigger for the shutter. The final take had them both staring serenely at the camera, with Anakin’s hand on Obi-Wan’s opposite shoulder, Obi-Wan’s hand grasping his lightly across their laps. 

For the second, they sat with their backs to a blank wall, and put the camera closer to them, for the effect of a less professionally captured moment. They then dramatically re-enacted some of their memories from the trip, and it was mid-laugh of both of them that seemed the most genuine. Anakin’s eyes had shut as he tilted his head back, smile splitting his face, and Obi-Wan gazed at him through half-shut eyes, face beaming with laughter. This image would be altered to include the background from a base in Corellia they supposedly owned. 

“Are these two good?” Anakin asked, swiping through the gallery displayed on the datapad. Obi-Wan hummed in agreement.

“Yes, quite fitting for our Owen and Ben. Very in-character, the second one is.”

“You sound like Master Yoda,” Anakin laughed, but the humour was mostly gone from it. He seemed tired, Obi-Wan noted. 

“Sometimes you aren’t the only one who speaks before he’s thought everything through, my friend.”

“So I’m  _ impulsive, _ now?” Anakin bit back, smile not reaching his eyes. 

“Quite,” Obi-Wan quipped, Anakin not looking away from the second picture. Obi-Wan reached for the datapad, which Anakin handed over. He selected the two photos, before sending them off to Fisto, who would be overseeing the obituary’s completion. The muted  _ beep _ of the message going through was the only sound besides the gentle hum of the ship’s engines. 

Obi-Wan stood with a sigh, dropping the datapad back on to the desk, before walking over to the small mirror in the ‘fresher. He looked at himself, noting that his face had become paler since their stay on Onderon, his freckles less pronounced. His eyes seemed like those of a stranger’s, and his face too vulnerable. It was most unlike him. He didn’t like the man he saw in the mirror. 

Slowly, he reached up to his ears, and slipped off the small gold cuffs, delicately placing them into the palm of his left hand, eyes tracing them intently as he guided them off of the cartilage of his ears. Once all five were off, he deposited them on to the corner of the counter, making sure they didn’t roll around. He gazed at them, wondering how such silly little things made him a different person. A more free man, despite the confining act he was to play. He wondered if he would miss being Ben, the man who was free to trail hands along the sides of his friend as he shuddered from nightmares. The man who was free to gaze adoringly, openly, at the taller man near him. The man who had a reason to turn down the advances of strangers, and not just because he wasn’t in the mood for a roll in the sheets. But he also loathed what that man represented: an exhausting plot he was to participate in, a careless man, an incredibly vain one, a man who was so expressive to the point where he enjoyed his youthful appearance as it gave him an outlet to look as what he felt.

Obi-Wan knew he was not a vain man, though he did enjoy looking how he liked to, keeping a uniform beard, which had become less of a tool to disguise his age, and more of a shield for himself. He was beyond ready to slide back into his own image, but he was hesitant. The past two weeks had given him the opportunity to act on his instincts, his own impulses. He felt that losing his freedom to reach out to Anakin, just because he  _ wanted _ to, under the guise of an act, was going to take part of him with it. His eyes felt hot, but he couldn’t move. He wasn’t ready to lose that. He’s not sure he would  _ ever _ be ready to. And he loathed the thought. 

Anakin watched Obi-Wan as he stood in front of the mirror. He had been removing his costume, but had stopped, and for the past minute or so had been looking directly at his own face, expression gaunt. Anakin stood, and approached slowly, sensing Obi-Wan’s discomfort. The man didn’t seem to register that Anakin was near him, or perhaps he did, but was unable to acknowledge it, so engrossed in his own thoughts. Anakin instinctively grabbed a small hand towel, wetting it in the sink, and gently turned Obi-Wan’s face to him. Obi-Wan looked at him then, but it was a faraway gaze, not seeing, yet seeing everything. Anakin lightly wiped at the bottom of Obi-Wan’s eyes with the towel, smudging the eyeliner gently. He continued, thorough in his motions, gentle throughout. Obi-Wan seemed to come out of his thoughts, slowly, blinking occasionally as the towel wiped closer to his eyes. When Anakin had finished, Obi-Wan looked more like himself, but young, impossibly so. It was easier to see how he was only five years older than Anakin: his face was soft, the smooth expanse of his skin uninterrupted by his beard looked  _ wrong _ to Anakin. He could only imagine how out of place his old Master felt in his own skin. Well, imagine because Anakin had felt similarly out of place inside his skin for years, the missing arm making him incredibly self-conscious of his appearance without his gloves on. 

Obi-Wan lifted his hands to still Anakin’s own as it held the towel to his face. Anakin stilled, and Obi-Wan gently took the towel from him, turning to survey the work done in the mirror. He watched Obi-Wan as he looked at himself in the mirror, feeling slightly imposing, but as he was about to turn, he saw Obi-Wan smile softly. 

“Thank you,” he said quietly, making eye contact with Anakin through the mirror. It felt tangible, the gaze, but was gracefully less intense than it would have been should the mirror not have been there as an intermediary. The words could have pertained to anything: the washing away of the makeup, the mission going well, for being there, but Anakin didn’t want to project his emotions on the words, so he simply nodded.

The next few days went well enough: Anakin had the time to run Ahsoka through some drills, they trained and sparred in the recreation areas. Sometimes Rex and Obi-Wan would watch on, making commentary to one another, discussing the advantages of certain combat types, the ways certain maneuvers would put them at a disadvantage or expose a side. Obi-Wan felt relief looking at them train, swells of pride in his chest at how well Anakin was doing as a teacher, much better than  _ he _ had been at Anakin’s age. Ahsoka’s enthusiasm reminded him of a younger Anakin, one who would light up at the opportunity to learn whatever he could, not that his manner has changed much, but it had altered with his maturity. They were a good match for one another, Obi-Wan knew that Anakin would learn as much from Ahsoka that she would learn from him. It made him feel an odd sense of closure, one that left a hollow in his chest. He had the privilege that Qui-Gon had not: he got to watch his own apprentice become a master, taking on his own padawan. He could have sworn that he could see his Master smile sadly at the thought, but it was gone before he could determine if he was imagining it or not. 

Rex had excused himself when Ahsoka was finished, the two of them exchanging light punches as they left the room, laughing at a joke he could not hear. 

Anakin laughed as they left, clearing the area of the practice droids he had brought out for drills. He noticed Obi-Wan standing on the observational platform that Rex had descended from, and offered a smile as he continued to reset the space for the next occupant. The two fell into step as they left, exchanging casual banter on Ahsoka’s improving skills, and how she would be well-rounded with the addition of a shorter blade in her other hand. 

“The  _ Negotiator _ should be arriving to Felucia soon, you’re probably anxious to get back now that your face has mended.” Anakin laughed, deliberately trying to provoke Obi-Wan into a verbal sparr. 

“Ah yes, it seems as though it will,” he answered evenly, evading the ploy.

“Is everything okay?” Anakin asked after a moment of silence from the man.

“Everything is fine.”

“Doesn’t seem it.”

Obi-Wan sighed, and they stopped walking. “What is it, Anakin?”

“Something  _ is _ wrong.” now they were both avoiding questions they aimed at one another. 

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan sighed, moving to continue their stroll, but stopped as Anakin’s hand reached for his shoulder, lightly holding him in place.

“Please… tell me. Talk to me. Anything.” 

Obi-Wan nodded, and they turned towards Anakin’s quarters, both wrapped up in their own thoughts about what they were to say on the way back.

“I have been unkind to you, Anakin.” Obi-Wan spoke softly, the door barely closed behind them. 

“What? In what way?” Anakin spluttered, at a loss for more coherent words, all of his planned questions thrown sideways out of the window. 

“During the mission,” he held up a hand to signal to Anakin, who was preparing to protest, to let him finish. “I feel that I misunderstood the parameters of what it required of us, and in that misunderstanding, took things… too far, at times.”

Anakin’s jaw opened and closed, like a fish, as he struggled to comprehend where Obi-Wan was coming from.

“What?” he said, finally, cringing at how pathetic he sounded. “How -- Obi-Wan -- in  _ what _ way had you been ‘unkind’ to me? You asked before  _ everything _ \--”

“Anakin, please, I’m trying to --”

“Obi-Wan! Please, listen to me. You were fine. You were doing everything right, everything the mission called on you, on  _ us, _ to do.”

“You misunderstand,” Obi-Wan sighed, placing his head in his hand, arm propped on the other that circled his waist. “I was--”

“-- doing  _ everything _ as you should have--”

“-- taking advantage.”

Anakin’s brow furrowed, eyes wide as he blanked on his coming words.  _ Taking advantage? _ he thought,  _ how--in what  _ way _ would he have-- _

“And I do apologise. I don’t see any way I could redeem myself. I requested a reassignment, my shuttle will arrive today, it will take me… take me back to my platoon. I have been gone longer than I should have been. I was selfish in staying so long.”

“Obi-Wan, I don’t understand what’s going on--”

“I’m sorry, Anakin.”

Anakin stood motionless as Obi-Wan cast an unreadable look at him, before heading out of the room, the doors hissing shut behind him. 

_ What is going on? _ Anakin felt lost. Beyond lost, actually. It was like his lungs were exposed, and he couldn’t swallow to save his dry mouth. Obi-Wan had  _ left _ him where he stood, after speaking about things, that Anakin had no knowledge of, that Anakin  _ should _ have known of. Had  _ Anakin _ gone too far? Did Obi-Wan know of how he felt, the way he couldn’t see anyone besides Obi-Wan when he stood in the room? Of the way his breath caught in his throat when the light hit his face, of the comfort the sight of him stroking his beard brought him? The fondness he felt whenever Obi-Wan said his name with such exasperation, knowing that he would aid him when he needed it, despite not wanting to let on?

Anakin sank to the floor, knees hitting the metal hard. He tried to make sense of the situation, but he couldn’t grasp it. It was elusive, just as Obi-Wan had been in the past week. 

His heart hammered in his chest as he realised that he was beyond  _ fond _ of the man. He struggled to breathe as the sight of Obi-Wan walking out of the door played on loop in his head. It would haunt him. It already did. 

How long had he been laying here, hours? Seconds? 

It didn’t seem to matter, yet it seemed to be the most crucial thing to him at the moment. 

His heart ached, he didn’t know what he had done. What had he done?

Did he do something? Did Obi-Wan catch his eyes lingering? Did he find him repulsive?

Something shattered inside of his chest. 

Anakin breathed in sharply. 

He was in love with him. And now he was gone. 

He knew somewhere that he wasn’t  _ truly _ gone. But it felt final. Like they wouldn’t be the same. It pained him to think of it. He didn’t sleep enough for days, the memories of their closeness plaguing him. He would be on the verge of sleep, but the echo of what it was like, when he had pressed himself into Obi-Wan, warning him of Asa; the way Obi-Wan’s breath had hitched then, that made Anakin want to do it  _ over and over _ until he had memorised the sound. How he would wake up in the man’s arms, face in his neck, feeling lighter than he ever had. The way their lips had moved together on the shuttle before they arrived at Onderon, how  _ right _ it had felt, even then, when he was blind. 

He wished he had never opened his eyes. Maybe, if he had ignored his feelings, been a  _ good little Jedi, _ he could have avoided all of this. They would have gone back to their previous roles, and he could have discovered it later, when they had time. When the war was over, when they could understand everything, see things clearer. 

But the gnawing idea that Obi-Wan had felt something too chewed at his insides. It broke his walls down, walls that he had tried to construct around himself to hide his thoughts.

It was a year before he saw Obi-Wan in person again.


	18. I've been holding on to the hope that you'll come back when you can find some peace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> reconciliation. 
> 
> title from "Bruises" by Lewis Capaldi.

Obi-Wan felt guilty. He could feel Anakin’s confusion and anguish as he walked away that day, but he felt it was in Anakin’s best interest if he left. He had been using his friend, and he hasn’t stopped feeling the shame of his actions since that first day on the shuttle, the kiss that shouldn't have happened. Not the first one, the cautious one, but the third. The one that he stole, the one that wasn’t necessary. Yet he had taken it all the same, fooling himself into believing that Anakin might have wanted it too. He was a presumptuous imbecile. He had betrayed his friend’s trust so completely that Anakin wasn’t able to understand the depth of his treachery. He tried to push his failures to the back of his mind, and threw himself into missions increasingly dangerous in attempts to divert his attention. He still greedily ate up all of the information available on Anakin’s whereabouts. He seemed to be doing well, he and Ahsoka were pulling off dangerous endeavours, with minimal casualties, and she had picked up another sabre, one which she wielded with immense grace and strength. The holocalls he had with Master Koon had brought such pride to him, to hear of how well Ahsoka was doing. Koon was equally proud of her, and it showed in the fondness in his face, the way his voice changed when he spoke of her. He assured Obi-Wan that Anakin was doing fine, although he did notice that Obi-Wan hesitated to ask about his former apprentice. He made a mental note to ask Kit about it later, who had been in routine contact with Skywalker. 

Anakin had apparently been frequenting the Senate building, which Obi-Wan found odd, knowing that Anakin was not overly fond of senators. Then again, it had been nearly a year since they last talked one on one, let alone in person. A lot had changed, a lot  _ must  _ have changed. He was aware that he caused Anakin distress, and that he had been added to the list of those who had hurt him, left him. He worried over the time he had lost with his friend. He regretted it -- as much as he wanted to convince himself he didn’t -- leaving him, but he also knew that it had to be done.

He had been a wreck those first weeks. He frequented the lower levels of Coruscant as soon as he got back to it. He spent nights with strangers, exchanging credits for company. He still felt empty. Luckily, although many of his partners noticed, they didn’t care to ask. They were there for his credits, or in some cases, because they, too, needed to get someone off of their mind. He wanted to get trashed, so utterly intoxicated that he could forget instead of remember. But it didn’t work like that. He didn’t have the time, nor the luxury. He was back on the front lines almost as soon as he was off of them. Once, as he was walking through the crowded streets of Coruscant, he could have sworn that he saw Anakin. But, it didn’t feel like him, something was off. Yet the person sounded  _ so much _ like Anakin, and the way the noon sun caught his curls, making the brown hair gold, was so familiar. He didn’t recognise the person the man was with, though she seemed familiar as well. He blinked, and they were gone. Lost in the crowd. That night was longer than most. 

Feeling rash, he agreed to a mission that would take place soon after he was to be assigned to Kavado with Anakin. He didn’t know what it would entail as of yet, but he was told it would be crucial for the protection of the Republic. The Supreme Chancellor himself had requested Obi-Wan’s participation in it, and it would be most improper to refuse. He was bound to it now, and the security level it required was at the highest he had ever been privy to. 

Kavado was… taxing, to say the least. But he and Anakin had rolled back into their old selves, although the interactions were shallow. He worried of Anakin’s wellbeing, especially because he was to be dealing with the queen of a planet known for their slave trade. Anakin seemed to take it in stride, but Obi-Wan knew him. Well, he had known him. Maybe he knew him still. 

The torture he was subjected to was hell, but he managed. It hurt all the more to think of how this could have been Anakin’s future, should they not have had to land on Tatooine all those years ago for repairs. He was so young then, but so old already. No child, no  _ person, _ should have had to go through what Anakin did. And maybe it was this thought that gave him the strength to put one foot in front of the other, and drag himself between coal piles, knowing the lashing of a whip made from concentrated energy, at the hand of a ruthless driver. He knew the lashes would scar, they had been built up over the duration of his captivity, and he had no access to bacta to ensure they healed properly. He was too worn out to feel relieved when he was rescued along with the Togrutan people. Many had similar sentiments to his, and many more had perished a matter of hours before their rescue. It weighed heavily on their collective conscious. 

The worst thing he did to Anakin, beyond using him, beyond betraying his trust, beyond  _ abandoning _ him, was agreeing to take part in the Rako Hardeen mission. 

He had never seen Anakin like how he was when he burst into the hideout that ‘Rako’ was using. He had never seen such unbridled anger, not just on his face, but on Ahsoka’s. Feigning a drunkard bounty hunter, the one responsible for Obi-Wan’s ‘death’, in the face of Anakin’s sorrow, his grief, was harrowing. The rest of the mission, as much as he could ignore Anakin’s expression, which had been seared on the insides of Obi-Wan’s eyelids, went by quickly enough. He could do nothing to shake Anakin’s persistent pursuit of Hardeen, at some points coming close enough to catch him, whispering his name as he struggled to escape the hold Anakin had on him. He felt awful, incapacitating his friend like that, but it wasn’t as bad as the lies that  _ just kept piling up. _

The mission was a success, but a hard-earned one, with little feel of victory, or even accomplishment. The Chancellor was safe, but Dooku had escaped. Mace and Yoda had told Anakin and Ahsoka of his undercover operations, and he was terrified to face Anakin again. He was resentful, especially of the Council’s decision,  _ Obi-Wan’s _ decision, to leave him out of the loop. Anakin seemed furious, at him, at the Council, perhaps at himself. He didn’t know how to reconcile with him. It had been too tense, for too long, and just as things were improving, he had to make Anakin believe he died. He didn’t consider how  _ he _ had felt when he had to watch his Master burn, how it felt to hold Qui-Gon in his arms as he faded into the force. He didn’t know what happened in the hours he was convincingly dead to the world around him, all he knew was that Ahsoka and Anakin had taken it really hard. 

His face stung horribly after he came out of the reconstruction, his throat hoarse from the modulator. Fortunately, they managed to speed-grow his hair, so he was almost back to normal. All that was left to remedy was the months of guilt that had been accumulating since he left him the first time. He didn’t know where to start. He didn’t know  _ how _ to start. Even if he did, he wasn’t sure Anakin would ever want him back as they were. He didn’t really want to live with himself, at this point. 

He needed to talk to Anakin. Even if it meant that Anakin would never wish to see him again, he needed to know the truth. He needed to know why he ran. 

* * *

The Instigator sat across the table, as was normal now. They no longer fidgeted as they sat, back straight in the tall chair. They were gaining the Hooded Man’s favour, having gotten closer to Sywalker since the mission to Onderon nearly fifteen standard months past. Skywalker sought them out for conversation, friendly, instructive, or otherwise. They had quite the influence over the young man, and saw him regularly. They even had gotten close to his padawan learner, a snippy juvenile Togruta. They had taken the padawan on away missions with them, as they headed off of Coruscant for Separatist space, and placed seeds of doubt in the absolutist-Republican mindset she had drilled into her mind since her retrieval for the Temple learning. The young one had taken the lessons to heart, and had expressed discomfort at not having known that there was an other side to the argument that sparked the war. That there were good people across both sides. 

Well, foolish people. 

“And how did the outing go?” the Hooded Man asked, fingers laced together in front of his face.

“Rather well, actually. He served to be most convincing.”

“This is good to hear, Instigator. I look forward to hearing more of the successes you have made. Shall we supervise the next batch, then?”

The Instigator blinked in surprise.

“You would wish for me to come with you? To the growing chambers?”

“I would indeed. Think of it as a… reward… for your progress. Your testing of them has proved useful.”

“Thank you, my Lord. I am honoured.”

The Hooded Man laughed slowly, the sound grating the Instigator’s ears. 

“Good… good… now, come with me. We shall depart immediately. You will be back within the day.”

The two stood, and walked to the ship that was waiting for them, a strange pyramidic device plugged in to the navigation system. 

* * *

“Anakin?”

“Not in the mood.” came through the door, muffled. 

“Anakin, please. I need to speak with you.”

“Oh! Like  _ that _ was going to work! Don’t you suspect it was a bit  _ too late _ for that, old man?”

Obi-Wan sighed, leaning against the door, hand over the frame. 

“Anakin,  _ please.” _

There was silence. 

“If I let you in, and you talk, will you fuck right off after?” Obi-Wan pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I really was hoping for a conversation, and not to be giving a lecture, but--”

“You don’t have any grounds to negotiate on,  _ negotiator, _ so I wouldn’t try it.”

“Anakin--”

“Get it over with. The door’s unlocked.”

Obi-Wan breathed a sigh of relief. 

“Thank you.”

The door hissed open. Obi-Wan stepped into the room, which was surprisingly dark. The light came from an unobscured window, one which Obi-Wan had routinely found Anakin sitting by, gazing out at the city in wonder, in his first months at the Temple. Anakin sat there now, fiddling with his mechanical arm, screwdriver in his mouth as he prodded into the circuitry with his flesh hand. 

Obi-Wan stood awkwardly, not sure where to sit. Normally, he would have sat directly across from him, cross-legged on the stool near the window. But that ‘normal’ was long dead, and had been for over a year. Obi-Wan’s fault. Anakin glanced up at him from where he was curled in the corner of the window, before looking back down, taking the screwdriver from his mouth to poke at wires in his forearm. 

“You going to sit down? Or am I to be scolded, like a child?”

“I’m not here to  _ scold _ you, Anakin. I’m here,” he took a breath, “I’m here to apologise.”

Anakin raised an eyebrow, still not looking at the man. 

“Best sit down then. I assume this will take a while, then. If it’s sincere.”

“I am sincere Anakin.”

“You left me.”

“I am unable to forgive myself for that.”

Anakin looked up finally, sighing as he leaned his head against the wall, searching Obi-Wan’s eyes, own face emotionless behind the exhaustion. He looked unwell. His eyes seemed shiny, more sunken in. the deep circles under them made the blue more pronounced, less alive. He made a sweeping motion with his free hand, the gesture laboured. Obi-Wan took the silent invitation, and perched himself on the edge of the stool, which had not been moved since he last sat there, and was covered in a light layer of dust.

Obi-Wan looked to Anakin, who continued to gaze at him, tired eyes somehow predatory in their elusiveness. He opened his mouth to speak, but then shut it, trying to gather his thoughts.

“I… I am sorry, Anakin. I truly am.”

“For what?” Anakin said flatly, forearms resting on his knees. Screwdriver loosely held in his hand, forgotten. 

“You know what for.”

“No, actually, I don’t.” Anakin retorted. “I don’t know who the fuck you are anymore,” Obi-Wan flinched, “I don’t know why you’re here now, when you made it  _ very _ clear you didn’t want to be around me. You  _ left me. _ Just like everybody else does. But this time?” he chuckled grimly. “This time was worse. Because  _ you’re not dead. _ You’re still flouncing around the galaxy, being a  _ perfect  _ little Jedi. You shut me out. I let you in and  _ you shut me out.” _

His voice was a quiet roar in the room. He didn’t yell. But somehow, that made it worse. If he had yelled, Obi-Wan would have known that he was angry, that he was listening. But now, as he was simply talking, forcefully at that, but still talking, Obi-Wan was lost. 

“I am s--”

“-- Don’t fucking say that you’re sorry. You clearly aren’t. You just need me, for some kriffing reason, and you’re trying to get me to come running back into your hands,” his voice broke, “like some  _ bitch _ that always listens to you. That  _ always _ drops everything to help you. Because for  _ some fucking reason, _ I can’t seem to get rid of you as easily as you got rid of me.”

Obi-Wan didn’t notice he had begun to cry until Anakin finished his rant, and the tears, warm and sluggish, found their way into his beard, settling along the corner of his mouth. 

“That’s a nice act you’ve got there. Is this one a party trick, or is it just for me?” Anakin bit. 

Obi-Wan said nothing. He just sat, and stared into the eyes of a man who had been the best of himself. His padawan, his friend. His fault. 

Anakin relented. “Why are you back?”

“Because what I,” Obi-Wan cleared his throat, voice gravelly, “because what I did was wrong.”

“You’ve got that right.”

“And I don’t expect you to forgive me,”

“Then why are you here?” Anakin’s head thudded against the wall, eyes searching the ceiling for answers.

“Because I need to let you know why I did what I did. And if,” he winced, clearing his throat again, “and if you don’t want to see me again… I,” he breathed, “I understand. But,” he looked at Anakin again, eyes pleading for the man to return his gaze, “I need you to know why.” he whispered. 

Anakin’s eyes dropped from the ceiling to meet Obi-Wan’s, and his heart, what was left of it, pinched when he saw the man’s face, splotchy and red, eyes bright and sorrowful. 

“Show me?”

Anakin reached to Obi-Wan, then quickly shut the panel on his metal arm, before reaching out again. Palm up, asking rather than taking. 

Obi-Wan shuddered, but lightly rested his hand in Anakin’s, before closing his eyes, and letting go into the force. 

_ Anakin stood at the end of a familiar hallway. It took him a minute to remember why it was familiar, but it looked the same as ever. He remembered the sweeping stone columns, the glass windows letting in gentle light. He’d walked this floor before, but it felt different. Like a waiting room in a funeral parlor. Or the steps in front of a memorial plaque, reading the names of the dead. Quiet, sad, and lonely. Breathtakingly so.  _

_ At the end of the hallway, was a door. He headed for it, not even needing to reach out to it before it opened on its own.  _

_ Anakin almost shuddered as he stepped into Obi-Wan’s memories; it had been so long since he had traversed the man’s mind in such a way, and he had been so accustomed to having someone walk through his own mind that he found himself slightly lost as to what to do.  _

_ He felt a gentle tug on his hand, and he let the invisible pull guide him through the room, so flooded with light he could see nothing else.  _

_ Everything started to dim, and Anakin stopped himself from instinctively withdrawing when he remembered that this was how Obi-Wan’s memories worked. He usually started them with closed eyes, then the image would fade into existence when he remembered opening them.  _

_ And here it was now.  _

_ Anakin stood at his Knighting. It was odd to see himself from the third person, but it gave him perspective of how Obi-Wan saw him then. Turning to the side, he saw Obi-Wan, younger, less damaged by the war, hair longer, as was his beard. Obi-Wan was smiling brightly, mouth closed, but the emotion was all in his eyes, the way they shone with pride. Anakin’s breath caught, he hadn’t noticed Obi-Wan looking that proud of him, ever. He saw the tears in his eyes as Anakin offered him his Padawan Learner’s braid.  _

_ He saw Obi-Wan, later that day, crouched on the floor of his room. Anakin wasn’t familiar with this moment, so he assumed he hadn’t been there. Thinking about it, he rarely actually went into Obi-Wan’s room. Obi-Wan opened a box, and Anakin knelt down next to him, looking over his shoulder.  _

_ In the box was a lightsabre Anakin barely recognised. Then, as Obi-Wan lifted it, turning it over in his hands, Anakin caught sight of an engraved chip he had made for Qui-Gon after he arrived at the Temple. He was touched that the man had added it to his sabre, even more so that it must have been done in the month from when Anakin had given it to him, and the man’s death. Anakin squinted, making out a band around the hilt of the weapon in the darkness. It was a Learner’s braid, but not his own. It dawned on him then, as he watched Obi-Wan trace it with a finger, that it was Obi-Wan’s braid.  _

_ And then, he was in a memory, within that memory.  _

_ He saw Obi-Wan kneeling before a mirror, face distraught, red and puffy from crying. This must have been after his Knighting ceremony, because he was much younger than Anakin was now, face clean shaven, hair short. He had held Qui-Gon’s lightsabre in his hand, which trembled horribly, as he reached to hold his braid in his free hand. Anakin’s heart clenched, watching the young man struggle to get the angle right, to take off his own braid, when it should have been Qui-Gon removing it. He could smell the singed hair as Obi-Wan managed to sever the braid, and he heard the man’s sobs as he dropped the weapon, now deactivated, before clutching the braid to his chest. The memory faded, and he was back in the room with a slightly older Obi-Wan, who smiled faintly. Sadly.  _

_ He looped Anakin’s braid around his own, both covering Qui-Gon’s sabre, a silent ‘thank you’ to the man who tied their fates together.  _

_ The memory faded then. He was somewhere else.  _

_ The room was dark, and Obi-Wan, probably Anakin’s age, sat with his back straight, legs folded.  _

_ He could feel, but not see, nor hear, Obi-Wan’s thoughts during that meditation session.  _

_ He could feel the uncertainty, the doubt in Obi-Wan’s own abilities to teach Anakin. He could feel the anxiety that coursed through his veins, wondering how he would train someone when he only had a few years of being a Padawan himself. He could slightly pick up on Mace Windu’s voice, muffled, as if through a wall, reassuring Obi-Wan that he was alright. He felt Obi-Wan take the compliment, but not able to believe it. _

_ He saw himself, in his and Obi-Wan’s shared quarters. Obi-Wan was reading, and resting in an odd position. He saw himself, a Padawan learner then, run into the room, smiling brightly. Did Anakin really look like that? So… bright? Lively? _

_ They were exchanging words, but Anakin couldn’t concentrate on what they were saying. He was occupied with the image of his younger self, so full of emotion, so free. He glanced down at his younger self’s hands, a spike of jealousy and sadness at seeing that both of them were flesh, admonishing himself for taking that for granted. He saw younger Anakin’s demeanor change, from joyous, to concerned.  _

_ Oh, so  _ that’s _ when this was. Obi-Wan had been injured, this was when Anakin had scolded him for being reckless. How the tables have turned since then.  _

_ He saw himself turn his back to Obi-Wan, remembering the tears that had obscured his vision then. Obi-Wan opened his mouth to speak, but closed it. At a rare loss for words that only seemed to happen around Anakin.  _

_ He saw Obi-Wan fight with his thoughts, before biting the inside of his cheek, stepping forwards and wrapping Anakin in a tight hug. Anakin remembered how his heart had skipped a beat then, and noted how it did the same all these years later as he witnessed the moment again. He felt Obi-Wan’s silent apology that he thought, more than communicated through the force, then. And as he did so, he saw his younger self turn around, flinging his arms around Obi-Wan’s shoulders. He felt the ache in the man’s ribs, but marveled in how Obi-Wan returned the hug all the same, the pain fading to background noise as he focused on comforting the boy in the only way he knew how at the time.  _

_ This memory was newer. And less comforting than the others.  _

_ Anakin was in the Alderaanian garb, soaking wet as he stood next to Obi-Wan. He watched, distancing himself from the memory, as Obi-Wan helped him change into dry clothes. He felt the ache in Obi-Wan’s chest, how deep it went, as he struggled to understand what Anakin’s distress was from. He felt the fear Obi-Wan had, not knowing what to do. The unfamiliarity with how Obi-Wan was to handle the situation.  _

_ Faster, was the meditation session they had weeks later. He felt the relief Obi-Wan felt when Anakin had finally let him in, the warmth in the man’s heart. _

_ And now, he faced the complicated memories. He could feel Obi-Wan’s strained hesitance, the willingness, no, the need, to share, but the undercurrent of remorse.  _

_ They stood in the bay of the shuttle before Onderon, Anakin’s hand held lightly in Obi-Wan’s, the man’s other hand on Anakin’s waist. He felt the man’s heart jump, his breathing hitch. It was comforting, a small part of his mind thought, to not have been the only one so affected by the contact. But he was transfixed, unable to tear his gaze away from Obi-Wan’s memory. Anakin watched as his own arm trailed up Obi-Wan’s spine, and felt the man shudder, his nerves alight at the sensation. Anakin swallowed, trying to regain control of himself. He felt, as he watched, what it was like when Anakin had pressed his lips into the man’s palm, as he kissed his inner wrist. He had no idea that he had such an effect from such a small action.  _

_ “Anakin… we need to, to start using the names. For the mission.” he felt the spike of embarrassment. _

_ “Ben?” then-Anakin said softly, resting a finger on Obi-Wan’s chest, over his heart.  _

_ “Owen.” Obi-Wan reciprocated, and Anakin felt the ghost of the man’s palm on his own chest as he watched it happen from afar.  _

_ Then things changed. _

_ The scene remained, but it froze as Obi-Wan extended his hand, so the flat of his palm was held above Anakin’s heart. He felt Obi-Wan, from outside the memory, tick with anxiety, leaving Anakin to the conclusion that this moment was pivotal.  _

_ He saw Obi-Wan, palm to Anakin’s chest, change. He could feel the man’s force signature flicker, not dimming, but brighter than ever. He felt something click within his own thoughts. _

_ Could this mean--? _

_ Obi-Wan gently faded the memory out, too exhausted and emotionally raw to focus on this one much longer.  _

_ Now, it was the end of their time together, before he left.  _

_ Anakin felt the grief in the man’s veins, how it flooded through him. He felt shame, the source of which was tied to the previous memory, to the simple gesture, so unassumingly intimate.  _

_ He understood, somehow, that Obi-Wan felt that he was taking advantage of the mission. That he was touching Anakin so freely under the liberties the cover granted him. He felt Obi-Wan draw in on himself, distancing Anakin from him, even now, believing so completely that he had been using Anakin.  _

_ But it didn’t stop there.  _

_ The next memories went by quickly, as though Obi-Wan was trying to let him know the jist of something, rather than the full of it, be it to spare Anakin, or himself.  _

_ Anakin felt the heartbreak as Obi-Wan walked out of the door.  _

_ He felt the depression that Obi-Wan had fallen into after that, the numbness that gnawed at his insides mercilessly. He saw the flash of neon lights from a club, the smell of cheap liquor that to Obi-Wan would never be strong enough. He saw, hazily, the faces of strangers, whom he couldn’t recognise, nor remember after seeing them, flash by. He saw Obi-Wan stumbling out of doorways, civilian outfit askew, hair a mess. He saw the sunken expression, the despair that clouded his breathing. The regret that haunted him like a ghost.  _

_ He saw Obi-Wan, slightly more composed, speaking to masters Plo and Kit over a holocall, the rush of relief whenever he heard Anakin’s name. The distress that followed in its wake.  _

_ He saw how desperate Obi-Wan had been when he agreed to the top priority mission, which the Chancellor himself had requested Obi-Wan on. The need to throw himself into something and forget. The horror when he learned that he needed to deceive Anakin to carry off the role. The quiet resignation that his fake death would make Anakin better, as it would let him live in a galaxy unburdened by the presence of a man doomed to remember him in every waking moment.  _

Anakin gasped, pulling roughly out of the mind bond. His head ached as it reeled from the suddenness of his retreat, wincing as he clutched his forehead, wanting the pain to leave him. Everything was too bright, too much.

And there Obi-Wan was. Same tired eyes as before, but now they looked fearful. Not scared, but the type of fear someone holds as they stand on the precipice of a monumental decision, awaiting a verdict. 

Obi-Wan looked to the floor, eyes vacant. 

Anakin’s head whirled as he sought to make sense of what he had learned. He understood, but couldn’t articulate how he understood, or  _ what _ it was he understood. It was like the waiting room for their bond; familiar yet foreign. 

He stood shakily, swinging his legs over the side of the ledge, standing slowly. He crossed the short distance between him and Obi-Wan, and reached out. His fingers traced the curve of Obi-Wan’s ear, gentle and cautious. Obi-Wan blinked at the contact, but didn’t stir.

Anakin raised his other hand, holding Obi-Wan’s head, fingers cupping his jaw, thumb tracing his chin. It felt right, with the beard there. Much more vulnerable, surprisingly, because now there wasn’t the sobering detail of it being gone because it was an act. This, this felt genuine. It was genuine. 

Anakin rested his forehead on the crown of Obi-Wan’s head, nose to his hairline. 

“I forgive you.” he whispered, eyes squeezing shut.

Obi-Wan gasped in a sob, head landing on Anakin’s collarbone. Anakin wrapped his arms gently around the man’s shaking shoulders, and pulled him closer, resting his cheek on his head, cradling the man. 

“I’ve missed you,” Anakin spoke softly, almost a murmur, as he rubbed circles into Obi-Wan’s back, the man gripping the back of Anakin’s tunic, as if it was a lifeline. 

Which, in a way, it was. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we love the moment where we realise that we've been in love with someone for four years, and even though you know you're over them in a sense, you'll always love them in your own way, quietly.


	19. But like a drunken night it's the best bits that are coloured in

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a confrontation of sorts
> 
> chapter title from "Poke" by Frightened Rabbit

Grievous was a growing threat in the war. 

He had already proven his tactical genius through the skirmishes over systems, with the threat of _Malevolence_ that had been terrorising their fleet. 

Kit was there when Plo came back from that mission, with three men out of hundreds surviving. It was fortunate that Ahsoka and Anakin had found them in time, when the council was hesitant to go. Kit was meeting up with dignitaries from Mon Cala, him and his apprentice were far out of reach as they searched for Plo. it distressed him, being unable to join the search, but he knew that he had to stay with Nahdar. He was relieved when he got back to Plo, finding the Kel Dor physically well. 

It was not the only time that Grievous impacted them personally. Kit was beside himself with grief when he was separated from Nahdar on Vassek, unable to help when the General shot him. Plo was patient with the Nautolan. Kit was quiet for days, speaking and eating little. He had been given a mandatory shore leave after the mission. Plo was grateful for this, as it aligned with his own time on Coruscant.

It was painful to watch Kit suffer like this. Losing one’s master was one thing, but losing a padawan was an entirely different arena. It was the pain of not only failing as a master that Kit felt, but failing as a parent. He had watched Nahdar grow, and had trained him for many years. Nahdar was one of the few present when he and Plo were allowed their bond. Plo knew Nahdar, well, but not as well or as closely as Kit did. He was saddened by the loss of one so young, so vibrant. He felt in his heart that he would always be hesitant to pick up a padawan, not wanting to outlive someone younger than he, to bring someone so bright into a gritty reality that was the Clone War.

The past months they had also been feeling a sense of loss, feeling that something was amiss with Anakin. He had been tense, quick to action, irritation. He avoided discussion of Obi-Wan, had been since the Onderon mission. It was something they talked about late at night, curled into one another. 

Kit’s forehead was pressed to Plo’s when he brought up the subject again.

“Anakin seems better,” he whispered, large eyes studying Plo’s face. Plo’s fingers laced through Kit’s, holding the back of Kit’s hand to his own shoulder. 

“He does,” he murmured, respirator making his voice sounding staticky as he spoke in a lower volume. “What do you think has changed?”

Kit shifted, the arm no longer pinned underneath him coming to lightly caress the Kel Dor’s face, tracing the line of his respirator where it met his skin. 

“I am not certain.”

“You do have an idea, though. I know you, love.”

Kit breathed a laugh, “perhaps I do.”

“Care to share?”

Kit smirked, eyes fluttering shut as Plo gently brushed a claw down his tendrils, which had relaxed over his shoulder and on to the pillows beneath him. 

“No,” he quipped, smiling wider, “but in time, you will know that I am right.”

“And how am I to make sure you are right, love, if you won’t let me know what it is you are plotting?”

“I am offended that you think I would be so petty as to alter my hypotheses.” Kit mocked offense. 

“You are exhausting, my dear.”

“Then sleep.” Kit smiled, hand trailing over Plo’s face and shoulder. 

“I am fortunate to have you in my life, Kit.” Plo whispered, the sound barely distinguishable behind the respirator.

“And I am to have you. Sleep.” 

They drifted off slowly, at peace. 

* * *

Anakin was dreaming again. 

At least he hoped he was. 

He stood in front of a tank, full of a viscous liquid he didn’t have a name for. Or was it that he was in the tank, and there was an empty one ahead of him? He was not certain. 

He tried to look to his side, but he couldn’t move his head, something attached to his face prevented his movement. He couldn’t breathe, but found he didn’t need to. Something was breathing for him, but it wasn’t air. 

Slowly, other things faded into focus. Ahead of him, two blurred shapes manifested, both dark, one taller than the other. They became clearer, though that wasn’t much to say. Both vaguely humanoid, although one was cloaked, so he couldn’t distinguish what the species was beyond cold yellow eyes. The shorter one was definitely human, though he felt something was off about this one. Something familiar. A pale hand, from the latter, reached out to the surface of the tank, around Anakin’s waist, from what he could guess based on the location of his eyes. The sound reverberated through the liquid, and he couldn’t scream, though he tried, at the pain the sound brought his sensitive ears. 

Next thing that he knew, he was laying on a table, wearing his usual clothing, but it was different. Cleaner. Something else was off about his perception of his surroundings, but he couldn’t quite discern what was wrong. Now there were three figures by his side, but as hard as he tried, he couldn’t remember what they looked like. Everything else in the room was in sharp focus, but their faces eluded him. Even what they wore. 

_“Will he remember?”_

_“No…”_ this voice was cold, bringing the very temperature down with every hissed word. _“He will not. But time will tell if the restoration will work in time. We seek to bridge the consciousness with the physical. Should you fail, this is our resort.”_

_“But his mind will be the same?”_

_“Yes, it will.”_

_“Then what would this do to aid in the plans? If he… if_ I _fail, then how would he be controlled?”_

 _“I have my methods. It is not for you to understand now. But I would_ so much _prefer it should you succeed. The growth process takes time, and our Sample has been extended for use over a decade. Ideally, this should have lasted only three months. Force-sensitives are… complicated… this way. Not that you would understand.”_

_“I understand well enough.”_

Anakin _knew_ those voices, he had heard them thousands of times before. It was as if he could only remember in his dreams, like he had a second mind, full of separate memories, only unlocking when he was asleep. 

He could remember a few things, now, but nothing he could find from outside of this small reality. Nothing about… he didn’t remember. He felt like there should have been something important for him to know. _Someone_ important he should be remembering. But his head hurt when he tried to think about it.

_“He is awake. Work quickly.”_

One of the shapes approached him, the human one. 

_“Anakin?”_ he grew frustrated as he couldn’t name them. _“Anakin, can you hear me?”_

He nodded, not sure if his voice would work. 

_“That’s great! Can you speak?”_

Anakin focused, screwing his face up as he mentally prepared himself.

“Y… yes…” he coughed, the feeling unpleasantly slippery. 

_“That’s good! You’re doing wonderfully. Can you tell me your name?”_

“Anakin.”

_“Anakin…? Anakin what?”_

It was as if he was grasping for straws, but none of them were tangible.

“Anakin… Sky… sky…”

_“Close, try again.”_

“Sky… skywalker. Anakin Skywalker.” he coughed again, the effort of the act draining.

_“Wonderful! Hello Anakin Skywalker.”_

_“Vocal test has been passed.”_ someone else in the room said, tone clinical, removed.

“Hello… who -- who are you?” he winced at the sensation.

_“You know me, Anakin.”_

“I know, but… your name… something,” he started coughing heavily, “something’s… somethns wrong--” he cut off, feeling as if his throat was melting from the inside out, the heat working through his mouth, numbing his tongue. His vision swam. 

_“What’s going on?”_

Something was beeping insistently, a high pitch whine of machinery.

 _“This is not what I was expecting. Tell me.”_ the cold voice rasped, Anakin shivering despite the feeling of being on fire.

He squirmed as he tried to alleviate the feeling, but it only worsened it. It had spread to his chest, his arms, his legs. His eyes stung horribly, and the smell of burning fabric and hair found its way to his nose.

_“We’re losing him for some reason. Perhaps we should alter the mental blockers, they cause the body stress as it becomes agitated at the memory loss--”_

_“-- Did I ask for excuses?”_ the cold voice roared, causing Anakin to flinch. 

He knew them, he knew them, he knew them.

_“Fix. This.”_

_“Yes, my Lord.”_

_“And_ what _did I say about NAMES?!”_

The beeping grew steady, the high pitched whine stretching on for infinity. 

Anakin knew nothing more. The last lashing of words seared into the inside of his charred brain. 

Everything was dark. He could feel everything as normal, now, but he couldn’t move. 

_What did I say about names._

He knew that was important, somehow, but he couldn’t remember why. His body felt odd, like he had run the length of a city, but he wasn’t tired. 

_What did I say, names._

What? What names, Anakin thought to himself. He had a raging headache. 

_What I names._

He tried to shake his head to clear it, but he still couldn’t move. 

_What names._

Half of his body was trying desperately to remember something, but he couldn’t remember what was so important. 

_Names._

Names? What names? _Force,_ his head hurt. 

His fingers began to feel things, but all that was there was the prickling of a thousand needles. His hand was next, the sensation sweeping over his body, curiously methodically. It was as if someone was directing the flow of the feeling. 

He hated when his body got numb like that. It was funny for a moment, but the ‘wake up’ from it was uncomfortable.

He popped his ears when he could properly move his jaw. Sluggishly, he rolled over, before falling to the floor, not feeling the edge of the bed. He couldn’t feel himself falling, either. 

It was one kriff of a headache. 

Stumbling into his tiny kitchen, he grabbed a glass and filled it with water, drinking it greedily in hopes of curing the headache. 

Four glasses later, it started to clear. 

He was still exhausted, and luckily enough, he had only been asleep for a few hours. Why was he awake again? 

Right. The headache. 

It probably woke him up. 

It had been happening a lot recently. He should probably be drinking more water, and not only when the headaches got bad. 

Yawning, he turned from side to side, cracking his spine. He felt better after, the tension there seeping away. Yet the headache persisted, and he trudged over to the main room that connected his and Obi-Wan’s rooms. After a quick detour to the ‘fresher, he sank into the couch, cradling the cool glass to his forehead, in a feeble attempt to ward away the ache. 

As he sat curled in on himself, the pain ebbed away. He felt exhausted physically, but his mind was as awake as ever. He sighed, surrendering to a sleepless night. He heard a door hiss open from outside of his foetal position, and in the abrupt manner of his head snapping up to identify the sound, he sent ripples of pain through his temples once again. 

“Fuck,” he hissed, pulling air through his teeth. 

“Anakin?” Obi-Wan sounded startled, as if he wasn’t anticipating the younger man to be awake at such a time. Which Anakin also hadn’t anticipated.

“Yep,” came the weak response. Everything was too loud, but too difficult to discern. He winced.

Obi-Wan quietly padded over to the couch, sinking down in front of Anakin. 

“You alright?”

Anakin tried to laugh, but that hurt. So he settled for a grimace. 

“Headache.” he whispered, pressing the cool glass against his neck where it met the corner of his jaw. The cold helped, and so did the company, strangely. 

Obi-Wan hummed in sympathy. 

“Tea?”

“Sure, thank you.”

Anakin sat in the dark as Obi-Wan went in to the small kitchen, making the tea with only the dim light from the small lamp. Anakin appreciated him understanding that the lights being on would be intensely uncomfortable thanks to the headache, and gratefully accepted the mug offered to him as Obi-Wan sat down.

“Have you been drinking enough water?”

Anakin laughed softly. “I have, thanks _mom.”_

Obi-Wan cringed, “please don’t start that up.”

Anakin winced as his laughter grew, the horrified look on Obi-Wan’s face only feeding into his amusement. 

The look soon faded to concern as Anakin’s laughter faded into a weak whimper, curling into himself further. Obi-Wan placed his mug on the short table, before crouching down in front of where Anakin was seated on the couch. 

“How can I help?” he murmured, hands seeking Anakin’s, thumbs rubbing circles around his knuckles. 

“Dunno,” Anakim mumbled, hand tightening around Obi-Wan’s, breathing in through his teeth. “Actually… that kind of helps. Don’t know why, though.”

“Intriguing,” Obi-Wan hummed. “Perhaps it’s a distraction. Have you had headaches like this before?”

“Yeah, for a few months or so.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“It’s not a big deal. They pass usually within an hour.”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan sighed, “just because they fade doesn’t make them any less uncomfortable when they’re hurting you.”

“I know, I know.” Anakin looked away. “It’s not as important as it seems. Many around us suffer more, why should I take resources from them?”

Obi-Wan looked down, breathing out through his nose in an attempts to collect his thoughts before he snapped at Anakin for believing so little in his own worth. He leaned down, pressing his forehead against the back of Anakin’s hand, eyes shut. 

“Why are you so unwilling to see your value?” he mumbled, leaning in, weight shifting so that he was resting against Anakin’s knees, hands intertwined, forming the small barrier between Obi-Wan’s face and Anakin’s legs. Anakin sighed.

“What are we doing?” he leaned his head against the back of the couch, looking up at the ceiling. 

“What do you mean?” Obi-Wan replied cautiously. He was aware of how his heart skipped a beat, how something in his stomach stilled when Anakin spoke. 

“You know what I mean,” he huffed, tired. 

“I really don’t, Anakin.”

The only response he was granted was a pensive hum, which did little do dispel his confusion. His ankles were beginning to feel the strain of bearing his weight in such a cramped position, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. The moment was suspended in time, nothing but the feel of Anakin’s hand on his forehead, the press of his knees on his clavicle, the warmth of the other man beneath his chest. As if him moving in just the slightest way to ease the strain would be the downfall of it all -- he would lose the proximity, the muddied clarity. Because that’s what it was -- he felt as if he was seeing things, sensing things, at such a heightened level of understanding, yet, somehow, he was understanding nothing at all. He kept his eyes shut as he rested against the younger man, waiting, for something… anything, really. 

They sat there, Obi-Wan curled around Anakin’s knees, Anakin looking to the ceiling, for a moment that seemed to stretch into everything Obi-Wan knew. He had bared his soul to Anakin, let him walk the corridors of his mind, relatively unhindered. And yet… it was as if nothing had changed. They still skirted about the bantha in the room. The immense being that dominated what remained unsaid for so long. He could almost feel it now, staring at him from behind him, the hot breath from the creature hitting the back of his neck, demanding to be addressed. It had been over a month since their last quasi-meditation together, and some part of Obi-Wan feared that he had let on too much, or not enough. Had he communicated what he was trying to clearly enough? He felt a pang of fear jolt through him, from the bottom corner of his heart to the opposing corner, like a stitch straight through it. Fear that he had lived the past month feeling that he was on the same page as Anakin, finally, but had in actuality been chapters away from him. 

There was so much they kept from one another. Even after their silent assurance that they would share what was plaguing them, what they felt. _How_ they felt. 

Anakin shifted from where he was anchored down by Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan leaned back to accommodate Anakin, who groaned lightly, the sound sending shivers down the other man’s spine. 

“Sorry, legs fell asleep.” he winced, laughing lightly. 

“Sorry,” Obi-Wan stumbled, backing off of the man he had unintentionally pinned underneath him, cheeks pink, growing darker by the second. 

“No it’s--” he laughed harder “-- it’s fine, just tingles, is all. Couldn’t feel them for a while, like they had been cut off at the thigh,” he grinned, Obi-Wan put his head in his hands, unsuccessfully trying to hide his growing amusement. 

“Force forbid I do any such thing.” Anakin almost howled with laughter then.

“Do forgive me, I am quite attached to them.”

“Oh, you’re horrible.” Obi-Wan lamented, now sitting on his heels, hand over his eyes, the other clutching his ribs. 

“You enjoy it.”

“Do I, now?” Obi-Wan smirked. Anakin blushed, looking down as he smiled widely, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Whatever,” he mumbled, smile now self-conscious. Obi-Wan’s eyes greedily took in the expression on his face. His thoughts were giving him whiplash: one moment he’s full of self-loathing and trepidation, the next, he’s devouring the man before him with his eyes.

The blush made him look devine, it dusted the bridge of his nose, tips of his ears, and the top of his cheeks, darkening his skin there. Not that he didn’t look so on the regular, but something was more _alive_ with him. In the dim light, he looked almost statuesque, yet the small movements, the nervous ticks, that made him so uniquely _Anakin,_ betrayed him. 

“Subtle,” Anakin laughed, knocking Obi-Wan out of his trance. He hummed in question.

“You were… ah, looking.”

“Should I not?” Obi-Wan whispered, boldly maintaining the eye contact after Anakin initiated it.

“Um… I’m just not… used to it. That’s it.” he cleared his throat, looking back to his knees, fidgeting again, but it was more of him being nervous than uncomfortable. 

“I can,” he paused, mouth dry, “I could leave, if you were uncomfortable--”

“No! No, no sorry, you’re f -- don’t leave. Please.” Anakin swallowed hard, shifting in his seat as he frantically searched for a way to occupy his hands. They settled on pinching the hem of his sleep shirt, rubbing the fabric. He was filled with tension, though he didn’t know what the cause of it was. He felt out of his depth, but he didn’t mind drowning. At least just a little bit. Not when Obi-Wan was _right there_ and so close to him. 

“Are you alright, Anakin?”

The man in question groaned internally. The tone Obi-Wan adopted then was not unlike his usual caring words, but the silent rasp clinging to his words as they ghosted over his lips… 

“Anakin?”

Anakin’s head snapped up from how he had been focused on his shirt, face hot.

“What?” 

“I was asking if you were alright. You seemed lost in your head, there.”

“Ah, no, sorry, just… thinking.”

“It must have been quite a thought, to get you so lost, so quickly.”

“Yeah… something like that.” Anakin murmured. He felt as though his face was alight, as if he were standing underneath a searchlight, on the spot, and at a loss for words. 

Obi-Wan studied him carefully. He felt that his gentle ribbing had gone too far, and he was back to using the situation to his selfish desires. He had seen Anakin in discomfort, and immediately went to his aid. But then, he let his eyes rest, and his mind wander. He had nearly fallen asleep on the man’s legs, for force’s sake. And Anakin seemed to want to be left alone, and here he was, keeping him awake, pestering him with conversation. He should leave. While he still had the resolve. Another moment here, with Anakin, and he wasn’t sure he would be able to leave. He was caught in Anakin’s orbit this time, binary system be damned. 

He was going to crash into him, and it would destroy what he had taken months to rebuild. But perhaps he was getting ahead of himself. 

Obi-Wan stood slowly, stretching lightly as he did so. Anakin’s head snapped up, following his movements with careful eyes. Obi-Wan pretended not to, stubbornly _refused_ to, notice. Just as he was turning to head to his room, a gentle yet insistent hand caught the cuff of his sleeve. 

“Where are you going?”

Obi-Wan paused to consider his words. 

“It’s late. Or, early. You should be asleep.”

“Can’t.” Anakin pinched his sleeve, arm outstretched to span the distance Obi-Wan had put between them. 

“Why not?” Obi-Wan didn’t look down at Anakin, instead mentally running through the path that would take him to his room, out of these dangerous waters. 

“Lot on my mind.” Anakin said, carefully.

Obi-Wan abandoned the idea of leaving, chest tightening as hope fluttered through it, a ravenous beast that would consume him at the soonest moment, should it not be struck down. He braced himself, fighting the urge to ask just one simple question. Infinite answers, but just the one that would be his doom. But that end would be a sweet release from the heartache all of the alternatives would have left him with. He could be free, then. 

He shouldn’t ask. He couldn’t. 

But oh, how he wanted to.

“Like what?” he whispered, the damned words filling the silence of the room, which still carried the faint aroma of tea. 

“You.”

A shiver ran through him before he could stop himself. His stomach flipped, the hope beginning to grow, swiftly, dangerously. 

“Good things?”

“I’m not sure…” Anakin trailed off, eyes glued to where his hand pinched Obi-Wan’s sleeve. He frowned as he noticed, for the first time that night, that Obi-Wan was still in his day robes. 

“You’re in your normal clothes.”

“So I am.” Obi-Wan replied, voice soft as he struggled to contain his emotions, which had been so easy to ignore for so much of his life, until he met Anakin. 

That man would be the death of him.

“Why?”

“I…” Obi-Wan paused, thinking what to say. “I was out.” he settled with the truth. 

“It’s late.”

“It’s early,” Obi-Wan replied, smirk tugging at his lips. “I was meditating in the Gardens.”

Anakin smiled, genuinely, as his mind called up an image of Obi-Wan sat in the Temple gardens, legs crossed, face unmarred by worry and stress. A practice he had increasingly participated in as the War raged on. 

“And how was it?”

Obi-Wan laughed softly. 

“The opposite of all of this.”

Anakin opened his mouth to reply, but his thoughts blanked as he tried to make sense of the words. 

“How come?”

Obi-Wan sighed. “Because, it… makes sense. There. Not like here.”

“You are confused?”

“Constantly,” Obi-Wan huffed a laugh, “I don’t know what my thoughts are, here. I can’t make sense of things. There’s no ground for me to stand on, no constant besides there _being_ no constant other than confusion.”

Anakin thought on that. He traced his hand lower, metal digits following the folds in the sleeve until he met Obi-Wan’s hand, and carded his fingers through the man’s own. He closed his hand then, drawing Obi-Wan’s palm to the back of his hand, tugging lightly, in a wordless request. Obi-Wan obliged, facing Anakin, and allowing the younger man to pull him to the couch next to him. As he sat, leaving a healthy amount of space between them, Anakin released his hand. Just as he went to see if he could reclaim the hand, Anakin stood.

His eyes met Anakin’s as the man moved to stand before him, hand outstretched to Obi-Wan, who took his hand in his own. He felt weightless. 

“May I --?” Obi-Wan nodded. 

“You didn’t hear what I was about to ask.” Anakin admonished teasingly, eyes searching the man’s face. 

“Anything.” Obi-Wan breathed, unable to look away from the man’s eyes, watching as they darted around as he gazed at Obi-Wan’s face. He barely registered that he was holding his breath. Anakin stepped closer, fingers laced with Obi-Wan’s, eyes meeting. 

He lowered himself so that he was perched on Obi-Wan’s knees, legs to Obi-Wan’s right side. He tentatively reached out, thumb ghosting over the side of Ob-Wan’s face. 

“Ben?”

It was such a simple word, but it brought Obi-Wan back to their first kiss, that they had shared in the blue light of hyperspace, a lifetime ago, when they were less war-beaten, younger, unencumbered by daunting emotions and a maze of topics they skirted around. He remembered how Anakin looked at him then, as his mouth formed the same word, but his eyes so much less open, less vulnerable. 

“Anakin.” he whispered, breathing deeply, eyes caressing the man’s face. 

Anakin leaned forward, hand now cupping the side of Obi-Wan’s face. He looked briefly to the man’s lips, back to his eyes, in a silent question. Obi-Wan bit his bottom lip unconsciously, eyes glued to Anakin as he leaned closer. They fluttered shut as Anakin’s nose brushed his own, and he nearly sobbed as Anakin’s lips tentatively pressed against his own. 

It was too much, and it would never be enough. 

His free hand snaked around Anakin’s waist, holding him closer, but not demanding the proximity. He kissed Anakin back, striving not to overwhelm him with the relief coursing through his body that he was undoubtedly pouring into the gesture. Anakin made a small noise in his throat as he deepened the kiss, pushing Obi-Wan so his back was pressing into the couch, leaning into him. 

Obi-Wan felt a hot spike through his abdomen, and released Anakin’s hand, which immediately flew to bury itself in his hair. He shifted his arm so that he could hold Anakin, forearm over his shoulder blade, hand on his shoulder. His breathing deepened, mouth working against Anakin’s, as it had done all those times before, when they were different people. 

But now his stolen moments then weren’t something that isolated him from Ben. This moment, the here and now, was _his._ Obi-Wan’s. 

Anakin slowed his pace, drawing back softly, resting his forehead against Obi-Wan’s. Obi-Wan kept his eyes shut, not wanting to open them and find that this was another wistful dream for him to wake to the bed of a stranger and the reek of cheep liquor. 

“Hi,” Anakin whispered.

“Hello there,” Obi-Wan whispered back, smiling widely. This _wasn’t_ a dream. It was real, and Anakin was _here._ He felt him, against his face, in the way that he draped his arms over Obi-Wan’s shoulders, in the weight of him on Obi-Wan’s knees, which had by now drawn up onto the couch as he changed the angle of his torso to fit closer to Obi-Wan.

“What does this mean?” Obi-Wan whispered, searching Anakin’s face for any of the small indicators that he was about to pull back, to shut him out again. Immediately, he hated himself for asking. He heard Anakin’s breath hitch, felt him shy away, just the smallest bit.

“I… I don’t really know,” Anakin said slowly, thinking through each word as he spoke them, “but, I do know that -- that I like this… whatever it is.”

Obi-Wan felt another wave of relief. He was on quite the roll, with all of this emotion. 

“As do I, Anakin.”

They shared small smiles, faces pressed together. 

Obi-Wan nuzzled Anakin’s nose, earning a wider smile. He couldn’t see it as much as he felt it, the way that Anakin’s cheek brushed his, the subtle change in the force around him. 

He pressed a gentle kiss to the tip of Anakin’s nose, then one to his upper lip, another to his cheek. Anakin laughed softly, chasing the trail of kisses, seeking to land one on his lips. Obi-Wan kept dancing out of reach, with light kisses to his cheeks, one to his temple, another to his eyelids, one to the corner of his mouth that had lifted in a smirk. 

“You’re a menace,” Anakin laughed, using his hand to still Obi-Wan, holding his chin so that Anakin could once again meet his lips. He trapped Obi-Wan’s upper lip between his own, the man’s beard ticking his chin, scratching pleasantly.

“This is better,” he murmured, stroking a finger through the hair on the man’s jaw, following the curve of his face down to his chin, thumb then tracing his lower lip.

“The beard? Or this in general?”

“The beard. It’s much more… real, now.” Anakin looked down to the side, worrying the inside of his cheek.

“We’re both more real now, Anakin.”

“You’re saying my name a lot, Obi-Wan.”

“Because I can say it now, here. In this context. Where I may do this,” he kissed Anakin fleetingly, “and have it be from me, to you. Not from an act to a practical stranger.”

“We’re not strangers.”

“Not now, we’re not.”

“Were we?”

“At some points, yes,” Obi-Wan sighed, resting his head on Anakin’s shoulder, the man flush against his chest, body awkwardly bent from where he sat on Obi-Wan’s knees. “We kept secrets,”

“That doesn’t make us strangers.”

“The magnitude of the secrets kept me from not being a stranger.”

“But I _know_ you, Obi-Wan,” Anakin protested lightly, “I’ve known you almost all my life. You’ve been there for me, so much that it feels like we were never separated. I don’t think of my life before the Temple without seeing you, lurking in the corners of my fond memories, comforting me in the bad ones.”

“I hid from you for over a year, Anakin.”

“I guess you’re going to have to make it up for me, then, aren’t you?” Anakin whispered, hand cradling the back of the man’s neck. Obi-Wan leaned back, looking at Anakin. His eyes were large, something akin to a pout on his face. Long lashes brushed his cheeks as his eyes hovered over Obi-Wan’s lips. 

“What do you want, Anakin?” he said gently, earnestly.

“You,” 

Anakin lifted himself off of Obi-Wan, before swinging a leg over Obi-Wan’s knees. He lowered himself so he was sitting on the man, straddling his thighs, facing him now.

“Since before I had the words to know what that meant.” he finished, hands cupping Obi-Wan’s jaw. There was a pinch in his chest, one familiar to those who are on the precipice of a granted wish, a dream. 

“Are you certain?” Obi-Wan’s words were nearly inaudible, eyes watery with emotion. It wasn’t a question of Anakin’s judgement, but of Obi-Wan trying not to let himself get ahead of where Anakin was. 

His mind was haunted by late nights in the lower levels. Of following a stumbling stranger, himself almost incapacitated, who bore the slightest resemblance to his friend. Of credits spent to just _feel something_ after a blur of numb days spent regretting himself ever getting close enough to Anakin to let himself kiss and be kissed. Anakin had seen flashes of those nights, but never the faces of his flings. He saw the ugly truth that was Obi-Wan without Anakin. He saw how lost the man was, how directionless, how despondent. 

And yet here he was, the gap between them narrowing every minute, resting on Obi-Wan, trusting him to kiss him. To catch him, at least for the moment. 

_May I?_ Anakin’s voice echoed, clarity amongst a storm of doubt, in his mind. He could only nod, unable to form words, to be spoken or otherwise. 

Anakin kissed him then, deeper than before. It was almost desperate, as if Obi-Wan was the air given to a drowning man. Which was odd, as Obi-Wan himself felt that he was drowning, and Anakin his air. 

When the younger man drew back to allow Obi-Wan to regain his composure and catch his breath, he surged forward again, mouth now open against Obi-Wan’s. His tongue poked at the join of Obi-Wan’s lips, and was granted entry, a stuttering gasp greeting him. His jaw worked wider now, intent on seeking out every part of the man’s mouth. Obi-Wan let him steer the kiss, both out of courtesy, and keeping in mind Anakin’s prior unfavourable experiences. He afforded Anakin control, letting Anakin lead his hands to the back of his head, to tangle in his hair. Anakin pulled back from his onslaught a moment later, resting his head against Obi-Wan’s forehead, both of their chests heaving. The elation leaving them near breathless. Anakin kissed a stray tear from Obi-Wan’s cheekbone. His own eyes felt weighed down with unshead relief. 

“I enjoy this… you,” he whispered, hands running down from Obi-Wan’s neck to rest on his shoulders. 

Obi-Wan laughed lightly, wiping his eye with the back of his sleeve. “I enjoy you as well, Anakin.”

“There you go again with my name,”

“There I go again.”

Anakin met his eyes, reveling in his ability to do so unencumbered. He let his hands slide from Obi-Wan’s shoulders to his chest, pressing on the fabric of his tunic in a way he had been thinking of frequently as of late. He could feel the warmth of the other man through the fabric, and the definition of his pectorals under the thick fabric. Sliding his hands lower, he felt the fabric glide under his palms as he found Obi-Wan’s abdominals, the relaxed definition of them under the tunic. He lifted his palms from his torso as he let his fingers trace the lower abdominals, fingertips catching on his belt. He looked up at Obi-Wan, silently asking permission.

Obi-Wan held his gaze as his hands settled over Anakin’s own, lightly leading them away from his belt.

“Perhaps not this moment, dear one,” Anakin bit his lip, feeling slightly embarrassed, “I don’t want to take this so fast, and do something we may regret.”

“Could… could we do something else, then? Not quite… that… but,” he slumped forwards, chest colliding with Obi-Wan’s, their hands held together to the sides of their legs. _“Force,_ Obi-Wan.” he shuddered, the movement testing Obi-Wan’s self restraint as it rippled through his own body. “I need you.” he whispered, sounding wrecked. Obi-Wan crumbled.

“Come here,” he murmured, hands leaving Anakin’s in order to lightly rest on the man’s hips, gently tugging them. Anakin shifted, moving closer, now sitting in his friend’s lap, knees pressing into the fold of the couch cushions. Obi-Wan tensed his thighs, unconsciously trying to get Anakin closer to him, as he tried to steady himself. 

The pressure of Anakin on his lap was much more than he was expecting. His eyes fluttered as Anakin shifted, getting comfortable. If he wasn’t so preoccupied with the moment, he would have felt slightly embarrassed by how brazenly his body was reacting to the contact. He almost did, until Anakin settled, and felt it himself. He bit his lips together, then, eyebrows knitting as he felt a spike of arousal run through him. Instinctively, he pushed down, seeking more of the sensation. Obi-Wan swallowed back a groan, hands tightening on Anakin’s hips, holding him there. Anakin moved his hands to hold onto Obi-Wan’s shoulders, bracing himself as he delicately rolled his hips forward. He clapped a hand over his mouth as he groaned, eyes squeezed shut. Obi-Wan loosened his grip, before guiding Anakin down again, breathing out a gentle moan himself. Anakin whimpered. 

Obi-Wan stopped suddenly, hands flying to Anakin’s face, checking to make sure he was alright.

“Anakin?” the man shook his head, chest heaving. 

“Don’t stop.”

Obi-Wan let his gaze linger, in case Anakin was making light of actually being at the mercy of his own head. He seemed to be alright, the sound more of a product of their activities than a cry from memories being resurfaced. 

“This isn’t too much for you, is it? Would you rather trade--”

“No. No, this is,” he cleared his throat, “I prefer being… here.”

“Oh.”

“Oh,” Anakin parroted with a laugh. “We can talk about it later. Please. Can you… can you do that again?”

“This?” Obi-Wan said, rolling his own hips up, holding Anakin’s in place.

“Y-yeah. That,” Anakin pushed back, “that’s, uh… yep.”

Obi-Wan laughed quietly, catching Anakin in a kiss, holding his hips as he rocked them together. Anakin let his neck relax, giving Obi-Wan access to his larynx. The man kissed the swell there, before kissing down the softer parts of Anakin’s neck. At this position, he could feel how Anakin’s breathing shifted with the locations he kissed. Obi-Wan had just arrived at the pulse spot between his trachea and under the corner of his jaw when Anakin arched his back into him. Obi-Wan felt the man’s erection through his clothing as it pressed into his abdomen, every rocking of their hips pressing it further against him. His rhythm stuttered as he gasped, a wave of something entirely gold running through him, leaving him warm. He inhaled shakily, making Anakin shiver. He kissed the man’s jaw, working his way to meet Anakin’s mouth. 

“Did you,” Anakin said between kisses, “did you just-?”

“Sorry,” Obi-Wan lamented, kissing Anakin again, face hot. 

“Just from-?”

“Anakin, _please,”_ Obi-Wan whimpered, too out of it to feel entirely embarrassed, but still slightly guilty that he came before Anakin did. 

“Oh,” Anakin breathed, kissing him harder. He picked up the speed of his own thrusts, emboldened by the effect he was having on Obi-Wan’s composure. Soon enough, they were both panting, having ceased kissing in order to allow Anakin room to grind against Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan tightened his grip on the taller man’s hips, deepening the rhythm Anakin had created. Anakin’s hands found Obi-Wan’s, and guided them to the top of his ass, holding them there. Obi-Wan enthusiastically followed Anakin’s lead, as overstimulated as he was, and nipped at the man’s exposed clavicle. 

He wasn’t sure if it was the gentle bite that did it, or the hold he had on the man’s bottom, but Anakin let out an exquisite noise as he pressed deep into Obi-Wan’s lap, holding himself there as his stomach muscles spasmed. Obi-Wan hugged the man to him, letting him ride out his orgasm in his arms. It wasn’t a sight Obi-Wan would be forgetting anytime soon. He kissed Anakin’s temple, and they both passed out soon after, right there on the couch. Obi-Wan still in his day clothes, Anakin in his pyjamas. 

The force around them seemed content. 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first time actually posting smutish things for other viewers, so... let me know?
> 
> i did rewrite this four times, so sorry that it's late !
> 
> i've been working on another screenplay, so that was the priority, but now this should be back on my plate.  
> comments keep me going!  
> xo spiders


	20. Every dream was mine to lose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the beginning of the end
> 
> song title from "Here's to the Heartache" - Nothing More.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i would like to dedicate this very late chapter to the wonderful @dbakeiro, who has been incredibly supportive of me throughout this process, and whose kind comments make my heart melt.

Anakin couldn’t recall the last time he had a dreamless sleep. Or a restful one, at that. 

But despite waking up with a crick in his back, and to irritation caused by the state of his pyjamas, he felt content. More so than he had in months. 

With every inhale Obi-Wan took, Anakin would rise slightly, and he found that it was easy to follow the rhythm of the man’s breaths, letting himself anchor in the present. As he rubbed the sleep from his eyes with the back of his left hand, he noticed the dried tears clinging to the corners of his eyes, curving along his cheekbones. He smiled, a small thing, but nonetheless joyful, as he remembered the midnight activities. The sense of safety, which clung to him even now. In the force, he could feel how Obi-Wan’s signature had lightly tangled with his own. The two blue hues, rolling and curling around one another, like waves. 

It had almost always been there, but perhaps he just didn’t allow himself to see it in his darker moments. Because, like waves, they grew cold, peaceful, angry, and playful. They were not one simple thing, nor were they particularly complicated. They just… were. 

Obi-Wan hummed, the sound reverberating in both of their chests. Anakin moved his hand so that he was lightly tracing Obi-Wan’s profile, relishing in his ability to do so, unencumbered by anxieties or senses of propriety, in all senses trying to memorise the curve of his nose, in a way only his eyes were able to do before. His brow was relaxed, free of the worries of the wakened world. Yet, it was his brow that contracted first, eyebrows scrunching together as he blinked away the sleep. It was funny, thought Anakin, the way that Obi-Wan’s eyes slowly came into focus. 

“Morning,” Obi-Wan whispered, voice groggy, betraying a tiredness Anakin had never seen before from the man. 

“Morning,” Anakin smiled, voice equally hoarse. 

“Kriff,” Obi-Wan groaned, “now  _ I _ can’t feel my legs.” he laughed quietly, Anakin’s face going pink.

“Sorry about that,” he paused, before smiling, “but it’s technically your fault.”

“And how,” Obi-Wan covered a yawn with a hand, “would that be the case?”

“Dunno. You might need to remind me,” Anakin smirked.

“You cheeky fuck.” Anakin gasped theatrically.

“Language, Kenobi.”

“Says the man attempting to entice me into doing  _ anything _ at this hour.”

“Oh please, it’s barely-” he checked the timepiece on the wall, “six hundred hours. Did I interrupt your scheduled beauty sleep?”

“Well, you can’t expect me to accomplish anything in this state. I need to change,” he scrunched his nose, grimacing, “and I think you should as well.”

“Fair point,” Anakin laughed, rolling reluctantly off of the man.

Anakin waited as Obi-Wan used the ‘fresher, having already done so himself, after being politely nudged out of attempting to share a shower with Obi-Wan, who gave an amused shake of the head, and pushed him away, smiling. Wanting to maximise his time with the man, Anakin took a quick but thorough wash, throwing on a clean set of robes before settling down on the couch to wait. Minutes dragged on.

A blanket of anxiety settled on his shoulders. Was he too assuming when he woke that things were fine? Obi-Wan hadn’t responded to his advances earlier… could that indicate he was regretting what they did? Something settled in the pit of his stomach, its iron fist curling and twisting.

He had  _ just _ gotten Obi-Wan back into his life. After a year apart. After years of being close. He couldn’t lose him.

At this point, he didn’t care if Obi-Wan wanted to physically be with him, he could not lose him. Not again. 

He felt like he was suffocating, as if everything in his body was trying to escape at the same time. He could barely breathe. 

What if that was why Obi-Wan was taking so long? Why he gently pushed him away? 

Was he disgusted by the walking contradiction that was Anakin Skywalker?

He needed to get out. He needed air. 

He needed to see Kit and figure out what the kriff was going on with him. 

Kit groaned as the banging on the door resumed. Plo had just left for his next assignment, and he was taking the opportunity to sleep in. Well, he had  _ tried _ to sleep in.

He rolled out of bed, throwing on his tunic as he crossed the room. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but opening the door to a teary eyed Anakin, hair a wreck, was not it.

“I fucked up,” Anakin whimpered, eyes pleading. Kit nodded, eyes conveying his concern, and admitted the man. 

Anakin stood in the centre of the room, a bit lost. Kit locked the door, wanting to ensure Anakin had the privacy he needed to vent. As Kit walked over to him, Anakin opened his mouth to speak, but stopped when he saw the pale green finger raised.

“I adore you, but I need caf. And you need to collect your thoughts, alright?”

Anakin nodded, sending a silent  _ thank you _ to the man.

Kit frowned as he brewed his caf. He hadn’t seen Anakin this rattled since… well, ever. His force signature was all over the place, not just around him, but stretching out, like a lost child in a crowd. He made Anakin a caf as well, the man needed it. 

He brought the cafs over to the table in front of the couch, Anakin having slumped into the chair across from him. The human accepted the caf with a nod, eyes lost somewhere near the floor. Kip took a long sip from his caf before breaking the silence.

“So, you fucked up.”

“I fucked up,” Anakin sighed, curling in on himself. 

“Is there a specific event, or should I guess?”

“I, uh,” Anakin shifted around in his seat, “Um. Well, it wasn’t just me… but, uh-”

“Breathe, Anakin.” Kit gently reminded, large dark eyes warm in their gaze.

“I…” Anakin winced, ducking his head down. “I, um, might have… might havehadsexwithmybestfriendandIdon’tknowwhattodo.” 

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

“I,” he inhaled sharply, “I had. This is harder than I thought,” he laughed uneasily, “um.”

“Do you want to tell me it directly, or should you just explain it from the beginning?”

“We would be here for a while.”

“So… start from the not-so-beginning, then.” 

Anakin grimaced.

“Well… um. Let’s just say I have this friend.”

“Ah, yes. The ‘friend’ friend.”

“Kit!”

“Sorry,” the Nautolan laughed, showing off blindingly white teeth, “please, continue.”

“So, this friend.” Anakin went pink, “I’ve had… feelings? Feelings… for, for perhaps a year? And, for a while, they shut me out. And… and it hurt. I took it really personally. Even though, we’ve discussed, it wasn’t me.”

Kit’s eyes sparkled, noticing how open Anakin’s face was, how easily the emotions flitted across it as he spoke.

“And, well, for a while, I wanted to resent them, but I couldn’t. Did you ever feel that way about Plo?”

“Oh, frequently.”

“Really?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe,” Kit laughed. He thought back to when he was first aware of his feelings for the man, how he had panicked that the  _ one _ person he decided to fall for was one of the most closed-off Jedi, one of the most socially withdrawn. But, he also remembered how much his heart would skip when he finally saw Plo, be it hours or weeks since he had last. “But, we can talk about that another time. What happened after?”

“We made up, I guess.” Anakin shrugged, “I don’t really know how, but we did, and I’m grateful for that.” The smile on Anakin’s face was contagious. “And… well, last night-”

“Your face is on fire, dear.”

“I know, Kit, you don’t need to point it out!” Anakin laughed, hands covering his face.

“I then assume you had sex with your friend.”

“Kit!” Anakin sounded scandalised. 

“Am I wrong, love?”

Anakin was beat red.

“Am I?”

“… No.”

“Well. So, what’s the issue?”

“I don’t know! It was really nice, but I feel like they regret getting close to me. It wasn’t even all the way, we didn’t… see each other. And then this morning, they seemed distant.”

“Did you ask if they were alright?”

“We seemed alright…”

“Is this another case of you not communicating directly enough?”

Anakin was silent, pondering what Kit had said. He couldn’t determine if his anxiety grew or lessened when he saw the accuracy. He  _ hadn’t _ asked. It had just felt so right, and he had ran with it.

“Wow.” Anakin breathed, eyes wide.

“Does Obi-Wan know you left, or does he now think  _ you’ve _ distanced yourself?”

“Kriff, he doesn’t.” Anakin’s eyes almost bugged out of his head, “Wait, how did you --”

“Please, you two are  _ not _ subtle. Go make sure he’s alright, and for the love of the force,  _ talk to him _ Anakin.”

Anakin sprang up, caf falling to the ground before Kit caught it with the force. He pecked the Nautolan on the head, before running out of the door. 

Kit smiled to himself. Those boys were going to be the death of him.

Obi-Wan had left the ‘fresher almost a minute after Anakin ran, and he walked back into an empty room. He wondered if this was another instance of Anakin lurking just inside doorways, trying to give him a fright. He felt a wave of amusement flow through him as he debated his next move. He decided to surprise Anakin, to turn the tables, see how  _ he _ appreciated being snuck up on for a change. Yet, he couldn’t sense the usual mirth in the force that preceded Anakin’s surprises. In fact, he couldn’t sense Anakin at all. 

Frowning, he made a small sweep of their shared quarters. Anakin was nowhere to be found. The only thing he seemed to find was an increasing sense of dread.

Had Anakin panicked, and run off? Did he go too far, did Anakin regret what they did? A chill swept through him as he wondered if Anakin was just going along with what he felt Obi-Wan wanted. He knew what Anakin had been through. It was part of the reason why he took things slowly, he wanted to make sure he had every chance to back out, to change his mind. He  _ never _ would have forced anything on Anakin, the thought of it made Obi-Wan physically sick. His heart was racing. This was exactly why he left all that time ago, to spare him, Anakin, from this sort of occasion. He let his guard down, and let his desires get ahead of himself. And now he’d ruined everything. 

He collapsed where he stood -- knees hitting the floor hard, slumping over himself, so he resembled a knot more than a man. His head pressed into his hands, as if the gesture would be able to stop time, and put him back in control. He didn’t move for what, to him, felt like hours. How could he have been so  _ stupid,  _ so naïve? Their leave was up in two rotations, and he couldn’t keep it to himself for that brief time. 

Had he been paying closer attention to what was going on outside of his head, he would have noticed the familiar force signature, and heard the sounds of the doors swishing open. Given that this was not the case, it took him by surprise when the weight of someone draped themselves over his shoulders. He relaxed when he recognised the cerulean hue of Anakin’s force signature, feeling his heart twinge as Anakin’s arms wrapped around his chest, holding him close.

* * *

“Are you certain about this, my Lord?”

The hooded man sneered, clearly agitated. 

“The efforts need to be redoubled. I want results, doctor.”

The Kaminoan nodded, reviewing her datapad. She jotted down a few notes, correcting a formula or two. 

The odd pair walked over to the nearest bacta tank, where the next sample was reaching its prime. They watched, emotionlessly, as the nearly-formed man slowly floated up and down in the fluid, with the even expansion of his lungs allowing for the movement. This sample had been grown over the past half-revolution, and was functionally better than others had been. There were no mishaps this time that would lead to the body melting under the strain of a force-sensitive mind, the tissues surrounding the brain had been reinforced with extra layers, including the encouragement of the brain to accept an implanted chip, which would act as an emergency ‘reset’ should anything not go according to plan. 

“This needs alteration,” the man said, indicating the right forearm of the clone. “And scar tissue needs to be imported along the new areas I highlighted on the data card I sent over prior to my last visit.”

“Yes, my lord.”

They remained where they were, taking in the progress of the growth process. After exiting the small room, they walked down a hallway. As they made their way towards the entrance of the building, they passed windows that lined the large hall, behind them, rows upon rows of bacta tanks, all containing variations of the same man, in different stages of development.

* * *

Anakin and Ahsoka were off-planet when they received an urgent message from the Jedi Council. They left the 501st, and made their way to Coruscant, an air of strained disbelief between them. 

“Master,  _ who _ in their right mind could have--”

“- I don’t know, Snips. I don’t know if there was any ‘right mindedness’ going on.”

“-but the  _ Temple? _ It’s horrible, Master.”

“I know, kid.”

Anakin anxiously tapped on the console, Ahsoka’s leg bouncing where she sat in the copilot’s chair. They both were mentally elsewhere, Ahsoka worrying about the Younglings she was friends with, the other Padawan learners who were still at the Temple that week. Anakin worried about Obi-Wan, where he could have been. A small tug on their bond, and a small wave of reassurance from the other side let him know that the man was alright. What bothered him was the creeping feeling of something ‘off’ that had been plaguing his subconscious for months, something cold that had been sneaking up on him, but vanishing as soon as he would try to process what it was. He could barely remember  _ what _ it was at all, like a dream that was so vivid it felt real, yet, when waking up, he forgot all of the details, but not the sense of unease that lingered in its wake. 

* * *

Anakin didn’t want to remember the past week. 

Before, the worst days of his life were the days when he lost his mother, and when he learned that Qui-Gon had been killed. 

Seeing the people he considered his parents die was nothing compared to the unjustness of circumstances surrounding Ahsoka’s expulsion from the Jedi Temple. Nothing compared to the heartbreak in her eyes when she said she wouldn’t come back. The despair he felt as he watched her walk out of the Temple, the grief as if he lost his little sister. Which, in a way, he did. He had failed her. He had failed himself. There was no lighter way to put it, and he refused to see another perspective. The Council had been catastrophically wrong. And he was there to reap the consequences. 

He was sitting with Ootar and a few of the Rhodian’s friends, who were trying to learn how to assemble their lightsabres. Ootar’s crystal glew a brilliant green, and his friend Caleb’s was blue. It wasn’t long before Master Billaba came to collect Caleb, who was apprenticed to her at his request, Billaba giving Anakin a pat on the shoulder as she went. 

“I’m saddened to hear Ahsoka is gone,” Ootar mumbled, not quite meeting Anakin’s eyes.

“Me too, kiddo.” Anakin’s smile was tight, eyes almost vacant behind the sadness they held. Ootar sat next to Anakin, and leaned his head on the man’s shoulder, receiving a pat on the head, and a small smile.

It was actually Ootar’s idea to insert one of Ahsoka’s Padawan beads into Anakin’s arm, and the human was grateful that the idea was suggested. The rest of the braid went on a small alter, with Ahsoka’s sabres lain out in front of it. One of Anakin’s side projects was to create new lightsabres, on the off-chance that Ahsoka would return. To the Temple, to him. It didn’t matter much, but he let himself hope. But as the weeks dragged on with no word from Ahsoka, ‘hope’ seemed to turn to a dirty word. It mocked him. Yet he waited nonetheless. 

His newfound closeness with Obi-Wan helped. His sleep was worsening, but when he was curled into the man’s chest, it was easier, and the dreams couldn’t reach him. Realistically, he couldn’t spend all of his moments in Obi-Wan’s arms, as much as he wished the opposite were true. There were times when he would get so lost in his head that he would find himself in odd places around Coruscant. He chalked this up to his grief. But he was grounded when a delicate kiss pressed on his shoulderblades, a brush of whiskers on his bare skin. Those moments felt real, though they were fleeting.

He needed to get back into the field. He missed his men. He missed knowing what to do.

He had gotten to see Padmé when he visited the Senate building. She had known about Ahsoka, of course, as she had tried to lead her defense. As practiced as she was, the evidence that the courts had received was damning, but Anakin was grateful nonetheless. The senator gave him a brief hug when she saw him, and Anakin clumsily reciprocated, not having anticipated the contact. 

“Anakin, it’s good to see you.”

“And you, Senator.”

“Are you here to see Bail?”

Anakin nodded, and was only half-listening as she gave him directions to where his office was. Which he didn’t need, as he had been there many times over the years. But having someone tell him how to get there lessened the likelihood of him wandering aimlessly through the building. 

He didn’t remember how he got back to the Temple, but the next thing he knew, he was back in his quarters and it was night. 

Why did it feel like he was losing time? That the moments he spent were constantly being rewritten behind him, so that he had little idea what really occurred?

He had a splitting headache. 

He should get some water.

_ Obi-Wan would know what to do. _ He smiled faintly at the thought. 

He glanced around his small kitchen. Nothing looked right, but he moved on autopilot, and made himself a caf. 

_ Caf. _

There was something important he was forgetting. A warning of sorts. Like a siren going off inside of his head, loud, yet muffled to the point where he wasn’t sure if it was really there. 

Something about caf. Headaches. Losing time. 

Where was he?  _ Right, _ his kitchen. 

What was he doing there, there  _ was _ a reason, he was sure of it… 

Anakin’s brows furrowed, and he sipped his drink. He closed his eyes, breathing in the distinct aroma. 

And there it was. Flashes, too quickly for him to discern meaning beyond the fleeting images. A cup of caf. Blinding white teeth on a black smile. A laugh, something he recognised, faintly. An explosion.  _ Mother? _ Someone was on the ground, body broken. He was drowning -- floating? A tank. Slippery throat, burning. 

It felt like his skin was on  _ fire. _

He didn’t remember when the cup fell, and he barely registered blacking out after someone shouted his name. 

A light was being shone into his eye. He blinked, but it took effort. The light moved away. 

His mouth felt dry, the rest of him felt uncomfortably groggy. 

_ “Anakin? Anakin, can you hear me?” _

He groaned. 

_ “Vitals are stabilising.” _

His brain felt like it was swimming inside of his skull. As if cotton was stuffed between the hemispheres of his brain.

_ “Anakin?  _ Anakin?”

The sounds from around him cleared, as if he was hearing them for the first time out of water. He squeezed his eyes shut, but the light persisted. A distant whirr of machinery from behind him filtered through the pounding of his pulse in his ears. 

“Swap them.” A deep voice hissed. He tried to open his eyes again, but they refused to cooperate. 

“Very well, sir.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in addition, some of the songs recommended by dbakeiro helped me through some incredibly dark times this past month, so my love to them. 
> 
> it's been really difficult for me to focus on anything lately, so i'm trying the best i can to get back into the habit of updating this. i was supposed to have an operation last month, but it got postponed because of the virus, thanks to the maskless fucks, and i'm struggling to keep my head up. but that's enough from me, i just wanted to let you know why iv'e been gone besides the usual 'depressed/suicidal/mentally unhealthy'. if anyone you know, or you yourself, are struggling with mental illnesses, you are NOT alone in this, and you can get through it. i'm trying to remind myself this.   
> as ever, comments mean the world, and welcome to those of you who are new to this.   
> my love to all of you  
> xo spiders


	21. These are the words, but the words aren't coming out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> title from "The World Is Ugly" by My Chemical Romance
> 
> yeah uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh this is almost entirely smut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey! i feel weird dedicating a smut chapter to relative strangers, but shout-out to @Dirtkid123 and @Nightshade_sydneylover510 for keeping me inspired and motivated!  
> much love to everyone who still sticks with me on this, we're nearing the end, and i am so thankful for you all.

“Explain to me again,” the man hissed, “how you  _ failed  _ to make the switch. You were given time,  _ opportunity,  _ and the  _ means to that end. _ Grovel as you will, it will get you nowhere.”

The Kaminoan shuddered, their long neck contracting slightly, as if to make themselves smaller. 

“The attempts to infiltrate the mind were thwarted by an outside element. We are not prepared to deal with such an occurrence.” Their voice was steady despite the tightness in their eyes. The hooded man drew back, hands steepled before him. His demand was quiet, but no less condemning.

“What  _ kind _ of outside element?”

* * *

“Anakin? Anakin are you alright?”

Obi-Wan fell to his knees near his companion, hands lifted, not wanting to encroach on his boundaries, which were volatile at times. 

Anakin groaned, and Obi-Wan breathed out with relief. 

“My head hurts,” he whined, rubbing furiously at his forehead. 

“Well, you did just  _ fall over. _ It’s no wonder why, you probably hit your head on the way down. You’re also dehydrated. And you dropped your caf, which, by the way, is  _ not _ water, dear one.”

Anakin laughed softly. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he inhaled shakily. 

“I’m worried, Obi-Wan. I feel like I’ve been turned inside out, I feel like -” Anakin choked, eyes welling up with unshed tears.

“Anakin.” Obi-Wan whispered, pulling the man to his chest, holding his head by his heart. He knew that the past months had been hard on the man, and that wasn’t anything in comparison to the past week. Ahsoka was a large part of his life as well, and he had not been able to stop the expulsion, even though he knew it was unjust, it was him and Plo Koon against the entire council. Even Mace, while he cared for Ahsoka, could not deny the evidence presented. Master Luminara had been holding together quite well, but Obi-Wan knew that she was internalising more of the fallout than she let on. Anakin was less attentive, and more restless. He wasn’t taking care of himself, and didn’t eat unless explicitly prompted to. 

They had gotten no more intimate since that night that he found Anakin sleepless in the kitchen, but they had rested together on the couch after Anakin had gotten scratched up on a chase around Coruscant. But, he wanted to take things slowly, for both himself, and Anakin. Anakin wanted to speed off, following all of his desires, but Obi-Wan was worried they’d do something they would regret if they moved too quickly. Obi-Wan had been brokenhearted before, and Anakin had his boundaries ignored, he had been used. 

“My heart hurts,” Anakin sniffed, pushing his face into Obi-Wan’s tunic. 

Obi-Wan thought he couldn’t have his heart shatter from a single sentence, but here he was. He wrapped his arms around Anakin’s torso, and pulled the man into his lap. He kissed the top of Anakin’s head, a pit in his chest, and felt the man snake his arms around his waist.

“What can I do?” he murmured into Anakin’s hair.

“Hold me?” Anakin craned his neck to look up at Obi-Wan, eyes swimming in a thousand emotions Obi-Wan wasn’t sure he would be able to name if he had an eternity to do so. 

“I am holding you,” Obi-Wan whispered, voice barely audible. 

“I wanna forget. Just, just for a little while. I don’t wanna have to think.” he pleaded, face edging closer to the older man’s. “Please help me forget.”

This was a trap. This was so a trap. 

Obi-Wan wanted to say no, that he couldn’t. He should distance himself, so he doesn’t get carried away, to avoid a repeat of that night, and waking up to a brief moment of bliss before the heartache, the worry. But Anakin needed this. And he  _ really _ wanted to do this as well. 

“Are you certain? This isn’t just a ‘now’ thing?”

“I am certain, Obi-Wan. Please.” 

“Can you promise me you’ll tell me if anything is too much? Even if it’s something small, I won’t take offense, I just want to take care of you.”

“I promise,” Anakin whispered, not certain how long he would last if Obi-Wan didn’t do  _ something. _

Obi-Wan focused on his next breath, but it was difficult to focus on  _ anything _ when Anakin was looking at him like that. 

Anakin’s eyes bore into him, lips on the verge of forming another ‘please’ as Obi-Wan gently met him in a kiss. 

Anakin kissed back, deeply. He clawed at Obi-Wan’s robes, wanting to get closer to the man, to the point where he was part of the man’s very being. As if he wasn’t already inextricably so.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan laughed quietly, pulling away, “I’ve had you on the couch-” Anakin blushed, looking guilty, “-I’m not going to add ‘on the floor’ quite yet. May we move this to a more comfortable area?”

Anakin nodded enthusiastically, attaching himself to Obi-Wan’s neck like a mynock to a hyperdrive. 

“I guess I’ll be carrying you then.” Obi-Wan grinned, shifting his weight to his right foot, Anakin hooking a leg around his waist, arms flinging around his neck, without moving from Obi-Wan’s neck. The man shuddered, pulse picking up as the intriguing dance of lips and gentle nips made its way across the side of his neck. 

“Don’t make me drop you,” he warned playfully.

“Try me.” Anakin growled, already trying to find his way inside Obi-Wan’s robes. 

Obi-Wan didn’t need to be told twice. 

He made the split-decision to move this to his quarters, knowing Anakin had his small shrine to Ahsoka near his bed. He didn’t want to do what he planned to do with that bittersweet monument in eyesight. 

Anakin’s legs were wrapped around his middle firmly enough that he had partial mobility of his arms, which made accessing his room all the easier, and locking the door behind them a simple feat.

Anakin shot him a questioning look, to which Obi-Wan replied with a calm “just in case the Grandmaster decides to barge in.”

Anakin made a face. “Thanks for that image.”

“Not a fan of the potential of the situation?”

_ “Obi-Wan,” _ Anakin groaned, “I am  _ decidedly not _ a fan of having a ménage à trois with Yoda.”

The man laughed, depositing Anakin on the bed, deciding to rest his verbal jesting for the moment. He slowed, crouched between Anakin’s knees, looking up at the man. 

“May I remove your robes?” Obi-Wan murmured, eyes locked with Anakin’s. Anakin had to bite back a moan just from the sight, and the sound of those words off of Obi-Wan’s tongue.

“Please,” Anakin managed to say, the word nearly strangling him on its way out. 

Obi-Wan smiled at him, squeezing his hand reassuringly. He leaned towards Anakin, gingerly unclasping his belt, which he then placed to the side of the bed on the floor. Then he guided the outer robe from Anakin’s torso, folding it, then placing it with the belt. He followed with the boots, quickly shedding the socks, before looking back at Anakin, who observed him from beneath heavy eyelids, and long lashes. He ghosted his fingers over the fabric of his inner tunic, looking at Anakin in question, receiving a nod. He rolled the tunic over Anakin’s chest, marvelling at the expanse of bare skin, slight goosebumps from the sudden coolness of the air. Anakin shrugged out of the rest of it, reaching towards Obi-Wan for a kiss. Obi-Wan complied, smiling to himself. He wanted to memorise every inch of the man, but there was time for that. They had time.

“May I, uh,” Anakin gestured to Obi-Wan’s own tunic, himself clad in his leggings. Obi-Wan nodded, bringing Anakin’s knuckles to his lips. 

Anakin fought back a giggle, a flash of the times he spent alone with his hand, imagining the very scenario which he now saw a reality. He leaned in, hands running over Obi-Wan’s arms, lightly tugging the fabric of his sleeves as he approached the man’s shoulders. He moved so that one of his hands cupped Obi-Wan’s jaw, thumb stroking his cheek, while his other deftly unclasped the offending belt, dropping it in the general direction in which Obi-Wan had stowed Anakin’s clothes. He smirked as Obi-Wan’s eyebrow crept upwards, a gentle poke at the difference in mannerisms. He did pointedly set the boots, which Obi-Wan took pride in, near the wall, standing up so they didn’t wrinkle. 

“Come back here, you nuisance,” Obi-Wan chided, impatient with the overexaggerated care Anakin was paying to his clothing. Anakin smiled, and went in for another kiss, yelping in surprise when Obi-Wan’s legs wrapped around him, keeping him in place while he tugged off his own socks, tossing them over the side of the bed before Anakin could try to  _ fold _ them, or force-knows whatever else. He released the man once he had done so, kissing his nose as he leaned back on his elbows. 

“Do you want to continue your painstaking practice, or should I finish this part for you?”

Anakin nodded, face on fire, “Do give us a show.” 

His attempt at a joke died as Obi-Wan shifted back, gathering the sides of his tunic in hand, rolling it over his shoulders just slowly enough to edge on the exhibitionistic side of practicality. Anakin was transfixed. He knew Obi-Wan was fit, Jedi trainings didn’t allow for less than that. But what took him back was the myriad of fading scars that disappeared between pronounced musculature. He had scars of his own, but they were more recent, and at times he had forgotten that Obi-Wan had seen battles without him, that he used to be reckless. 

“You alright?”

Anakin nodded, reaching out to trace a hand along the curvature of the man’s pectorals, his abdominal muscles. Obi-Wan caught his hand, pressing another feather-light kiss to the back of Anakin’s hand. He turned the hand, and kissed the pulsepoint beneath his wrist, trailing kisses up the inside of Anakin’s arm, gently pulling at the arm, drawing Anakin to him. Anakin had been observing Obi-Wan as he traced his veins with his lips, and the heat that had been running rampant through his mind for  _ years _ found itself trickling down his insides, pooling in the base of his stomach, flowing down his ribs, his erection becoming uncomfortable in its being ignored. He shifted, hoping to relieve the tightness without distracting from the moment. Obi-Wan stroked his cheek, gathering the man in his lap, mirroring their positon from their session on the couch. 

“Is this okay?”

“Yes,” Anakin kissed him, lingering so that their foreheads were touching. “Can… can we go further?” 

“Anything that you are alright with, Anakin.” Obi-Wan whispered, nuzzling into the man’s cheek. “What do you want?”

Anakin shuddered, being the centre of Obi-Wan’s attention was bound to make him preen on any occasion, but now, when they were so close, it made him bolder, and it made him want the man even more. 

“Touch me. Please.” Anakin rasped, eyes squeezing shut as Obi-Wan snaked a hand between them, brushing his fingertips over Anakin’s tunic, erection tenting the fabric. He unconsciously bucked his hips into the contact, seeking more friction. Anakin’s hand met his, covering it, and pushing Obi-Wan’s hand firmly against his cock. Content that Obi-Wan wouldn’t lessen his grip if he lifted his hand, Anakin moved his hand, and slipped it curiously into Obi-Wan’s leggings, enjoying the heat coming from the man’s skin, and the effect he was having on the man’s composure. 

Obi-Wan let out a gentle noise as Anakin’s metal fingertips ghosted along his cock, a shudder running up his spine. He reciprocated the gesture to Anakin, wrapping his hand around the tip of his cock, wrist pressing into the man’s abdomen from the angle afforded by the leggings. Anakin bit his lip, eyebrows furrowing together as he struggled to contain himself. He slipped his hand out of Obi-Wan’s pants to then shimmy them down the man’s legs, excitement flooding his system as Obi-Wan stepped out of them, bracketing Anakin between his arms, Anakin’s back to the mattress. Anakin regarded the now fully-nude man, small smile on his lips as this moment was  _ theirs _ after what felt like lifetimes. He held Obi-Wan’s gaze as the man ran his hands down Anakin’s ribs, making him shiver. He came back up to press a lingering kiss on Anakin’s forehead, and then left fleeting kisses along the path of skin from his neck to just above his navel. He glanced back up, and after Anakin’s nod, he swiftly removed the taller man’s leggings, exposing him to the warm air between them. Anakin’s fingers coaxed Obi-Wan’s jaw up, meeting his eyes, a silent question on his face. Obi-Wan smiled knowingly, reaching up to kiss Anakin deeply. 

If he was ever asked about the gentle tear that slid down his face, he would deny it to all of the Sith’s hells and back again. 

Obi-Wan took both Anakin’s and his cocks in his hand, keeping a steady pace as he pumped them, twisting his hand to increase the sensations rocking through them both. 

“Is this okay?” he whispered, voice breathy in Anakin’s ear. All he could do was bite his lip harder and nod. A metal hand joined Obi-Wan’s as he slowly undid the both of them. His eyelids fluttered as he lost himself in the rhythm his friend had created, using his other hand to cover his mouth, smothering any potentially embarrassing noises he was bound to create. 

“Anakin?” Obi-Wan ventured, noticing the man’s restraint. 

“Sorry,” Anakin breathed, moving his hand to cover his eyes, “I just, um…” his words died off, and he bit his lip, fingers parting to expose his long lashes. 

“Are you nervous?” Obi-Wan asked, voice comforting, welcoming Anakin to confide in him. He felt safe with Obi-Wan, safer than with anyone else.

“I haven’t exactly done this before. On,” he swallowed, hand now grabbing at his hair, a nervous tick he had usually tried to fight, “on my terms.”

Obi-Wan’s force signature surged in understanding. He knew that Anakin had made his sexual debut when he was quite young, and he hadn’t had a very good relationship with the idea of sex for years. 

“Are you wanting to stop, or slow down--”

“No! No, that’s--no. No, you’re fine. Please. I just haven’t had positive experiences before.” Anakin’s eyes were almost doe-like when he locked eyes with Obi-Wan. “I trust you. And, and I want you.”

_ And I have for years _ went unspoken. 

Obi-Wan nodded, smiling. He kissed Anakin’s nose, before shifting lower, pressing a kiss above Anakin’s navel, below it. He trailed light kisses down to just above the man’s cock, stopping to nuzzle into the skin above it. 

He looked up at Anakin, whose face was slack, cheeks painted red. He had propped himself up on his elbows, eyes fluttering. His breath hitched just looking up at him, never in a millennium daring to hope that this sight would greet him in this life. He felt a sudden rush of endearment towards the man, it warmed his very soul. Obi-Wan pumped his fist a few times, observing the reaction it had on his companion. When he dragged his open mouth up his shaft, Anakin’s eyes went wide, then they shut tight, metal fingers carding through Obi-Wan’s hair. Obi-Wan relied mostly on instinct to guide his hands and mouth, not wanting to look away for a second as he sought to commit every moment to his memory. The heavy weight on his tongue made it more difficult to keep an eye on Anakin, but when Obi-Wan had to come up for a breath, he savoured the sight. 

Abruptly, Anakin’s hand tugged on his hair, tapping on his head. 

“Obi-Wan,” his voice was ragged, “I don’t wanna--” the man in question kissed the insides of his thighs, squeezing them gently. 

“It’s alright, darling, how do you want me?” 

Anakin blinked owlishly, thoroughly perplexed. 

“What?” he stammered, looking searchingly at Obi-Wan from where the man knelt between his legs. 

“Do forgive me, but I presumed you would be more comfortable on the ‘giving’ than the ‘receiving’ end of things.”

“Oh, um, actually,” Anakin sat up, rubbing the back of his neck. His skin was glowing, but Obi-Wan knew the patterns his blood would rush when he was embarrassed. “I’d rather… I’m more accustomed to being on the, uh, ‘receiving’ side of things.”

“Are you sure? I don’t mind if you would rather--”

“I need you to be -- I need…” 

_ I need to have better associations -- I need  _ you _ \-- I need you to be the one I remember when I think of this. _

The words echoing through their bond were jumbled, but Obi-Wan was beginning to understand. 

“Would you like to do this now? Or would you--”

“Now. Please.”

Obi-Wan smirked at his shy demand, pressing another kiss to his thigh before lifting Anakin’s hips, encouraging the man to widen the space between his knees to allow easier access. 

Anakin let his eyes drift shut, unaccustomed to the care in which Obi-Wan was taking as he prepared Anakin. Anakin wasn’t a stranger to sex, especially not in this fashion, but he was a stranger to a partner who had  _ his _ boundaries and limits in mind. He admonished the part of himself that felt surprised, because it was  _ Obi-Wan. _ He trusted him, and Obi-Wan  _ cared about him. _

Anakin resisted the urge to press his hips into the bed when the first finger slipped past his ring of muscle, aided by a cool lubricant Obi-Wan had fetched from his bedside. He made a note to ask the man about that later, if he remembered to. The second one creeped along the first, incrementally, as to not cause any potential discomfort. 

“I’m not delicate, you know.” Anakin whimpered, pressing the fingers further into him. Obi-Wan chuckled, and added a third. They massaged Anakin as they found their way towards his prostate, once again Anakin had to forcibly remind himself not to clench in anticipation. He felt like the moment when a ship would jump to hyperspace, not in realspace, but the moments where the stars would turn to streaks, the space to an inky blue amidst such lights. 

“Obi-Wan… please.” 

Obi-Wan removed his hand, much to Anakin’s dismay, but as he climbed over the man, bringing them almost face-to-face, the protest died in Anakin’s throat. Obi-Wan’s fingers ghosted over the sensitive skin of his perineum, causing Anakin to shiver. He had slipped on a rubber with his unoccupied hand as he stretched Anakin, which the younger didn’t notice until that moment. He smiled, and kissed Obi-Wan’s forehead, then his nose. He caught Obi-Wan’s lips in a bruising kiss as the head of the man’s cock pressed against his entrance. 

The kiss lessened as Anakin and Obi-Wan had to take more frequent breaths, by the time Obi-Wan was situated so that he was fully inside of Anakin, the kiss was more of a shared space where their lips occasionally brushed. 

Obi-Wan was gentle without making Anakin feel as though Obi-Wan was holding back. He was slow in his thrusts, but they went deep, and it was  _ such _ a nice change from the rough encounters that Anakin had known. Anakin ground his hips into Obi-Wan’s when the man pushed in, and sought his out when he pulled back. He noted the delicate groans the man made when Anakin pushed back against him, and they emboldened him into seeking out what other noises Anakin could elicit from him. 

Obi-Wan seemed to enjoy when Anakin gripped his back, which earned the man kisses on the base of his neck. He relished the short but fierce extra thrusts Anakin would give when Obi-Wan’s cock brushed his prostate, making the rhythm mirror a heartbeat. Anakin stopped being embarrassed of himself, or at least seemed to forget about, the noises he would make when Obi-Wan’s teeth grazed his collarbone, when the man would jerk him off as he thrusted into the man. He was over the edge before he knew it, balls tightening almost painfully as he released, spilling into the man’s hand, a bit of it making it onto his chest. He could only mouth his partner’s name as Obi-Wan picked up the pace ever so slightly. His thrusting shallowed, so the minimal distance he moved dragged the head of his cock over Anakin’s prostate, prolonging the man’s orgasm. 

Anakin’s breathy request for Obi-Wan to kiss him, eyelids heavy, face red, caught Obi-Wan by surprise, and then he too was in the midst of his own orgasm. Obi-Wan complied, but it wasn’t so much of a kiss as it was a press of foreheads with lips on a nose, others on a cheek. 

“Are you alright?” Obi-Wan whispered, panting, as he brushed Anakin’s sweat-damped hair out of his eyes. 

“I’m more than alright,” Anakin smiled, eyelids heavy with exhaustion, both mental and physical. “Thank you.” he kissed Obi-Wan’s palm. 

“For what?” Obi-Wan booped his nose with a finger, tracing the man’s lips. He hadn’t bothered to pull out yet, but he was slowly becoming increasingly sensitive.

“For asking,” Anakin smiled, eyes closing. “For staying.”

Something tugged in Obi-Wan’s chest, but he couldn’t recognise it. The warmth in his heart, though,  _ that _ he recognised. 

“Always.” He kissed Anakin again, before rolling off of him to pull his cock out of Anakin, quickly tying and discarding the used rubber. When he got up, legs wobbly, to grab a towel to clean up, he also nicked a glass of water from the small kitchen. 

“Drink this, it’s  _ water.” _ he winked, passing Anakin the glass. The younger man rolled his eyes, accepting the glass as he slowly sat up, slightly uncomfortable, but not painfully so. Obi-Wan brought the damp towel to Anakin’s stomach, wiping away the semen that was starting to dry on his skin. He took the now-empty glass and towel back to the ‘fresher, before returning to the bed, scooching the covers down so that Anakin was now sitting on the inner sheet, then pulling the blankets over him. He missed the glowing smile on Anakin’s face as Obi-Wan rounded the bed, slipping in next to Anakin. He wiggled down, situating himself, before turning so he was on his side, a hand moving the hair out of Anakin’s eyes.

“I did  _ not _ have you down as a sentimentalist, Obi-Wan.” Anakin teased, nonetheless leaning into the contact.

“This sentiment makes me stronger. Plus,” Obi-Wan said pensively, “I was trying to see if you would like to stay.”

“Well, I’m here, aren’t I?”

“I would never want to presume.”

“Only persuade?”

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes, lips spread in a smile as Anakin curled into his side, draping his arm over Obi-Wan’s chest, metal fingers warm where they rested on his clavicle. 

“It worked, didn’t it?”

“What  _ ever _ gives you that impression?” Anakin kissed his cheek, nuzzling into his neck, chin tucked into the space between Obi-Wan’s shoulder and lower neck. 

“I enjoy you.” Obi-Wan murmured, letting his eyes drift shut.

“As I enjoy you.” Anakin parroted, a bit confused, but comforted by the choice of words. It was just  _ so _ Obi-Wan, complex, yet as familiar as breathing.

_ The ‘I love you’ went unsaid. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was the most explicit thing that i've ever written, and i am feeling anxious about it! pls share your throughts 🥺🥺  
> was massively depressed, but now on the upwards-bounce. at least for now, but i'll not look this gift horse in the mouth.  
> stay safe, wear your masks, and be kind to one another, cuz it's a hell of a ride.  
> xo spiders


	22. we lose our minds in a city of roses, we won't abide by any rules

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> somewhat of a filler, many time-skips, and important plot info for the final few chapters up ahead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title from "Fire on Fire" by Sam Smith
> 
> and this work has officially been dedicated! to my three longest-running supporters, and my most active followers. i love you three very much.

“So, you mean that because of his proximity to other force-users, he is  _ somehow _ shielded to us?”

“Yes, my Lord.”

“This isn’t a viable excuse. He was fine for almost a decade being around hundreds of Jedi almost  _ daily. _ What has changed now?”

“I cannot say, my lord, but his mind seems to be more stable, and less uncertain. If the scales were tipped so that he felt less balanced --”

“It would bring him back to me.”

“Uh -- yes.”

“Ready my ship.”

* * *

In the past months, Anakin had found it easier to be around Padmé. Perhaps it was because she was courting a Mandalorian official, the name of whom Anakin couldn’t remember very well, but it also could be that he was gaining a sense of belonging in his own skin now that he had his Obi-Wan situation in perspective. So when she told him she was venturing out towards the Unknown Regions, he was willing to come to her aid should she need it when on Batuu. 

It was an odd experience, to say the least. He had met a man unlike any he had encountered before, some Chiss with a long name Anakin refused to pronounce correctly. Not that he  _ couldn’t _ pronounce Mitth’raw’nuruodo, he just had a slight Huttese accent when he spoke any non-Basic language, a byproduct of his upbringing as a slave. The Chiss was most insightful, often able to bridge gaps in understandings on minimal facts that Anakin needed the force to do so  _ with _ adequate facts. He was impressed, but he kept the alien at arm’s length. Padmé agreed when she met him, but there was no denying that behind the seemingly cold exterior, the man was one of the most brilliant people he had ever met. Obi-Wan would have been fascinated by him. They would have had very interesting conversations, akin to what Anakin would presume to be a  _ Tenn _ match, the possibility for banter endless. But, he didn’t want Obi-Wan to meet him. Rather, he didn’t want Mitth’raw’nuruodo to meet Obi-Wan. The man was  _ his _ most treasured companion, and he was reluctant to share that with  _ anyone, _ let alone a blue stranger. 

Something Mitth’raw’nuruodo mentioned was nagging at him. About an infiltration. 

_ It would be easier to infiltrate from the top down over the long run, rather than planning an infiltration. _ Something like that. The Chiss had a look to him when they surveyed the factory on Mikivj that seemed to convey that he had figured out the entirety of the Clone War in the mere days he spent in Anakin and Padmé’s company. It made him shudder.

The nights he slept in Obi-Wan’s arms were the nights he felt safest. The man kept the nightmares away, the headaches subsiding in his presence. The headaches were spectacularly bad on Batuu and Mokivj, when he was the furthest from Obi-Wan he could remember being. At one point, he felt almost paralysed by the headaches, which caused his anxiety to skyrocket in the questioning glances from the Chiss. He insisted he was fine, but Mitth’raw’nuruodo wasn’t convinced, though he did lay off. 

Anakin wasn’t due to overlap deployments with Obi-Wan for nearly a month, but he had his men and he had a war to fight.

More often than not, he felt disconnected from himself. He was going through the motions, waking up, planning their next advance, morning meal with Rex, straight back to the front line. Keep himself alive, save all who he could, pull back for the day and mourn their losses. He felt old. 

He missed Ahsoka when the weeks got like this: having her around helped to lighten the load, and keep the morale up. Rex didn’t mention her, but he would rely on the tactics she perfected when the situation called for it. Anakin admired how the closeness between the two meant that he didn’t  _ completely _ lose Ahsoka, he had Rex, who knew both of them well enough to start to fill the void she left in the 501st. 

And, soon enough, he was back on Coruscant. Curiously, he had a dinner invitation. Padmé and her partner would be meeting him in Padmé’s private apartments in the Federal District. He felt a small unsettling curl in his stomach, but he couldn’t determine what the source was. 

A few hours after his landing, Anakin was speeding over to his dinner through the crisp Coruscanti air. He nodded to one of the guards in greeting, before buzzing to be let in. less than a minute later, the door whooshed open and he was being warmly embraced by the senator. 

“Anakin! I’m so glad you could make it,” she beamed, “please, there’s someone I would like you to formally meet.” Padmé lead the way through the foyer to the dining room, where a striking woman in a sleeveless blue dress was sipping at a cocktail, gazing out the window.

“Darling, he’s here. Anakin, I would like you to meet Duchess Satine Kryze.”

The woman in question turned, her head leading the movement. Anakin was keenly aware of how statuesque she was, her light blonde hair curled up to accentuate a swan like neck. Her style of choice seemed to compliment Padmé’s, where Padmé found refuge in warm tones, often with gold, her partner embodied the moonlight Padmé stood in. 

“Knight Anakin Skywalker, it is a pleasure to finally meet you.”

“And you, madame Duchess, it is my honour.”

Her eyes twinkled knowingly, smile hidden behind her glass as she took a sip. They didn’t waste time before one of the server droids brought out their soup. The small talk was pleasant enough, discussions about the war on both a political and military front, how the Mandalorians were coping with being a neutral system in a time of conflict. He found himself laughing along to the swift barbs at political opponents, and enjoying the company of the two women. They seemed very content with one another, even happy.

“So, Anakin,” Padmé began as they sat around the coffee table in the main room. “The reason I asked you here tonight is because Satine and I,” she glanced to the other woman, who smiled in encouragement, “we’re trying to have a baby.”

“Congratulations!” Anakin smiled, feeling genuine happiness with a tinge of apprehension. “When are you announcing?”

“Well… that’s the issue, you see,” Padmé was at a rare loss for words, “we can’t at the moment. We were thinking of finding a surrogate, but then there’s the question of choosing a donor. And, even then--” she looked at Satine for help.

“I’m unable to bear children.”

“I’m so sorry,” Anakin said, “so…” he died off as he began to understand.

“Anakin,” Padmé pleaded, reaching across the table to take Anakin’s hand in her smaller ones. “This is very important to us, and there’s nobody else we trust quite as much. That  _ I  _ trust quite as much.” Anakin nodded, finding it difficult to swallow. Satine leaned closer into Padmé, arm looping around her lover’s waist. 

“Would we have to… um--”

“What? No! No, Anakin, there’s a contact-free way if you would want to be our donor. But, it’s really just an ask, you don’t need to answer now.”

Anakin nodded silently, flashing a nervous smile to the women. Padmé’s eyes were shining, but her smile never faltered.

“They asked you for  _ what?” _ Obi-Wan spluttered. Not out of offense, or disgust, but out of pure surprise. 

“Padmé wants me to be their donor. And her partner is really lovely.”

“Yes, Satine and I were friends for quite some time. She’s an admirable woman.”

“So what do you think I should do?”

“What do  _ I _ think? Anakin, this is your choice. I will support you in whatever way I can.”

“Would I have to  _ see _ the kid? Would I be responsible--”

“Anakin, they’re not asking for you to be a father.”

“Oh,” Anakin sighed with relief. “Sorry, I’m really new to this.”

“I believe it, it’s not something I had imagined happening.” Obi-Wan laughed. Anakin smiled, nuzzling closer to the man’s bare chest, their legs tangled beneath the covers. It felt good to be home.

* * *

“Something is wrong,” the man whispered to himself. Something had shifted. His control over the young Jedi was strengthening, but  _ something _ was working against him. A betrayal, within his ranks. 

With such an extensive control of the galaxy, there wasn’t a shortage of suspects. It irked him, how elusive the information was. It was almost as if it was shielded. Or the proximity to him made it muddied, much like how he had thwarted the clear minds of the Jedis in their Temple, so,  _ so, _ close to him. 

Everything was lining up. Everything was falling into place. 

The second Dathomirian was dead. His former apprentice was cast out of his confidence. The Clone War was drawing to a close. The time of the Jedi was coming to an end. He had the Jedi within his grasp, had been making small switches over the past few months. The man had yet to notice he wasn’t always within his own skin. None around him were the wiser. 

But  _ what was it…  _

It could prove to be small.

He had everything else down to the letter. He could not afford anything going awry, lest he lose more than he would gain. 

He ground his teeth together. He  _ would _ succeed. 

* * *

In the end, Anakin decided that he would be Padmé and Satine’s donor. It was less monumental than he had anticipated, but he still felt excited when he heard that it was successful. Satine had personally come to deliver the news, meeting him at a café that he was mildly familiar with. He had hugged her, Satine’s eyes shimmering. He smiled into his blue milk latte, assured that he would achieve ‘uncle’ status upon the child’s birth. The Duchess’s joy was contagious, even if it was slightly dimmed due to Padmé’s absence on a diplomatic mission. 

“So, what’s the plan for you two after the child arrives?”

“We’re still figuring it out, but my term is coming to an end soon--two years, that is-- so I thought I would carry on as a senator for Mandalore in the Republic while my fellow senator would represent us when necessary in the Confederate Senate.”

“You would be alright with that? The dual-representation?”

“Well, it’s not  _ ideal, _ but this war can’t carry on forever. I’ll move into Padmé’s apartment, until we can move to Naboo once we know what we’re doing. Or Alderaan, Bail and Breha have already told us we’re more than welcome to occupy a wing of their palace.”

“Oh I’m sure Padmé would  _ love _ that.”

“Ah, she has her reservations, but it wouldn’t be forever. I had always hoped to be a mother, but for a long time, that wasn’t a possibility. So thank you,” she reached across the table, squeezing his hand, “thank you for this.” 

“I’m glad to help. You two will make wonderful parents.”

He was surprised how easily he could say that: he and Padmé had had their differences in the past, but he admired her as a person. And he wanted his friend to be happy. 

“I’ll be returning to Mandalore soon, we’re having a bit of an internal power struggle, some of us are more keen on returning to warrior roots, but the peace has been prosperous for us in education and public wellness. We’ve had this conversation before,” she held up a hand at Anakin’s look of concern, “but, no, I will be fine, thank you.”

If he didn’t know better he would think she was force-sensitive. He was just about to protest that she shouldn’t be going back alone, with the previous attempts on her life during these periods of unrest testifying to her need for protection. A gnawing part of him was deathly afraid that she would end up a martyr for her nonviolent standings. 

He accompanied Padmé as they saw her off on her ship. The tinge of sadness from Padmé through the force did little to quell the sense of finality the closing of the landing ramp had. 

He stood motionless as Padmé whispered to herself that it would only be a few weeks until she was reunited with Satine.

He wasn’t allowed to leave the front lines when he heard about the siege on Mandalore. Obi-Wan went to aid Satine and her loyals against the rising of Death Watch and the Vizsla clan. Anakin learned of the woman’s execution over a holocall with his heavy-hearted lover on the other end. He didn’t know how Padmé would react. She was five months along now, and her anxiety only growing. Obi-Wan felt responsible for the woman’s death, as it was Darth Maul who speared her, like he did all those years ago to Qui-Gon Jinn, and Obi-Wan was taking it hard. It was difficult for Anakin, having to be the strong one for so many people all at once. 

Two months later, Mandalore lost, Padmé coming to terms with her almost-wife’s death, Anakin’s headaches returned. 

* * *

_ “So, it’s true then.” _

“Yes. Your sources have served you well.”

“And you seriously believe that I will have no qualms killing you now?”

“Oh, I don’t doubt your desire to have me out of your way. But, you can’t afford to kill me.”

“Is that so?” the hooded man leaned back, observing the incredibly pregnant woman across the table from him.

“Yes.” She stood then, hands braced against the ledge of the table. “And I want out.”

There was a moment of silence where the man was trying to decide if she was joking or not. But the force flowed differently around her, and she was shaking. 

“You want out.” he repeated, the words carried on a dry laugh.

“I. Want. Out. I will not be your spy any longer.”

“My dear Instigator, there is no ‘out’, you swore your loyalty.”

“Loyalties change.”

“And what is the thing you have used as leverage to stop me from crushing your throat right now?”

“It’s his child.”

The silence was deafening. Not many things had ever managed to surprise the hooded man, but this? This had caught him off-guard.

“And you are certain of this, how?”

“You had told me when you were making the switches, so that I could monitor how he was acclimating. I waited until it was really him to have him make the donation.”

He pressed his fingertips together, bones straining from within the flesh of his hands. 

“I won’t be helping you any more. And you can’t kill me now. Because what I have is more valuable than you want to let on, and I had already finished your task. Consider letting me live as a reward for my continuing silence.”

“Your grovelling has bought you minutes.”

“Is that so, Chancellor Palpatine?”

* * *

Anakin was forgetting things again. Not big things, but small details, which were so routine to him that he barely noticed what he had forgotten until he was directly asked about it. 

Small things, like the walk from the Temple to the staging areas for his troops. A walk which he had averaged at about eleven point five seven minutes. One which now, took him nearly twenty three. He chalked this up to being distracted. He was going to be an uncle soon, he was still figuring out what it was like to properly court Obi-Wan, as much as someone could do so in the midst of a war they were both frequently off fighting. 

He wakes up with the occasional scratch or bruise he couldn’t remember getting. In his circumstances, this wasn’t unusual, so he paid it no mind. He once woke up with one bruise  _ less _ than he had fallen asleep with.  _ “The Force works in mysterious ways,” _ he would reassure himself. 

He dreamt of fire, of dark stone. The stinging tears of a wave of anger more intense than he had ever felt. Flashes of blue--confusion, the bodies of children on the Temple floors. He saw Ahsoka, too: her head tails longer, stripes thinner. She wore grey, and her eyes were harsher than he knew them. He saw Obi-Wan, ashen, carrying blankets in his arms. Padmé, with flowers in her hair as she slept. 

He would forget these things as he woke, as one does to the important things. 

Even the sanctuary of Obi-Wan’s arms could only protect him for so long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello buddies!  
> hope you are all well. this one was difficult for me to write in the sense that i needed to get this stuff established, and i couldn't quite reason/space it out so that they'd be their own chapters, so, voila': this mess.  
> please let me know your thoughts!! if you have questions, let me know so i can make sure the next chapter covers them xo  
> stay safe  
> be gay, do crime  
> xo spiders


	23. I'm a ghost of what's left of me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan is starting to notice something is wrong.
> 
> title from "I won't give in" by Asking Alexandria

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shout out to Anon user Jake for making one of my worst nightmares come true and stalking me across fics until i came slinking back here.

Her saying “it’s been a while” was beyond an understatement, and Obi-Wan knew it. Anakin was near-speechless when they had rounded the corner and seen Ahsoka’s holoprojection, and Obi-Wan knew that he was struggling with how to respond, how to react.

It was as if they had no time to properly react. During the call, there were others around, and an agenda to be maintained. He and Anakin weren’t being overtly open about their new relationship dynamic, but they also weren’t necessarily hiding it. He would comfort the man when they had a moment. Knowing that not only was Maul making himself known, but that both Ahsoka and Lady Kryze knew where he was, and were plotting a capture, worried him immensely. He did not doubt his young friend’s abilities, but he also did not underestimate the extent of Maul’s wrath. 

He was occupied with meetings as Anakin and Ahsoka got time to what he hoped would be ‘catching up’. That’s when he got the news that the Chancellor had been kidnaped, and was being held on Grievous's flagship. Both he and Anakin were requested for the retrieval mission. Which meant that they couldn’t go to Mandalore, couldn’t go with Ahsoka. He didn’t like this at all. 

“You alright?” He said quietly, looking at his taller companion. 

“Yeah. Fine.” he sounded on edge. “Why?”

“I know that having to leave Ahsoka so soon is difficult for you. I wanted to make sure that you were…” would ‘fine’ cover it? “She knows what she’s doing.” he said finally, turning his head so he could see Anakin as they entered the hangar.

The man nodded, clearly distracted. Obi-Wan bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from reaching out for him, knowing that they were far from alone.

_ I’m right here. _ Obi-Wan spoke through their bond, noting that it felt cooler than what he was used to.

_ I know, _ Anakin responded, smiling over his shoulder at Obi-Wan. 

He had a bad feeling about this.

Anakin glanced over to where Obi-Wan lay, feeling a pang of guilt at how unconflicted he felt for what felt like the first time in his life. Dooku was kneeling before him, looking up at Anakin with tangible fear. Anakin wondered passively at what the Count could be thinking of. Was he scared, knowing that the young man whose hand he took those years ago had now bested him, taking  _ both _ hands in return? The Chancellor chuckled from behind him, voice grating yet rich like sap, gentle and warm until it crystalised around an unsuspecting insect, trapping them forever, killing them slowly. 

“Good, Anakin.  _ Good… _ kill him.”

“I…” Anakin started, frowning. The muddied feeling was back again. He looked back at Obi-Wan’s prone form. He looked weak.  _ Helpless, _ a voice in him supplied. He wouldn’t know. He could say that Dooku had fought admirably. But in the end, it was him that succeeded. Who had  _ triumphed _ over the old man. He hesitated. 

“Wait!” Dooku rushed, Anakin’s eyes snapping back to meet his. Something cold and ugly reared its head over Anakin’s shoulder, he didn’t look to it, but it felt familiar, something he had been carrying for years. 

“Final words, Count?” Anakin said cooly, voice barely above a whisper, yet his words seemed to echo in the room. Dooku suppressed a shudder. 

“Kill him now.” Palpatine repeated, an urgency threaded in his tone but nevertheless commanding. Anakin looked over to Obi-Wan again, noting the utterly shaken expression on Dooku’s face as he gawked at the man in the chair. Obi-Wan was still breathing, thank the force. The room felt colder. Something invisible was grappling for control, but Anakin barely noticed. 

“I… I shouldn’t,” Anakin forced out, “it’s not the Jedi way.”

His body felt alien at that moment, the Chancellor’s demand echoing through his nervous system.

_ “Do it.” _

That voice… it felt so familiar. Something about it was screaming for Anakin’s obedience. His skin seemed to burn from a memory, a warning he couldn’t remember. He wanted to listen, but he wanted to flee. 

_ Obi-Wan please, _ Anakin felt himself reaching for his companion in the force, but there was nothing when there should have been everything. Something red and relentless blocked his path to the man, his clarity. 

_ Tell me what to do. Obi-Wan  _ please--

_ Do it. _

The hands that jerked away from each other were not his own, yet he watched as he drew the lightsabres apart, felt the rush of  _ something _ as the smell of burnt flesh reached his nostrils. The Count collapsed, body thudding against the metal floor. His head hit the ground with a sickening sound, rolling away from the corpse it used to belong to. 

Just as Dooku was dead, Anakin felt more alive than he ever had. Adrenaline picked up his pulse, he could feel it racing through his veins. His fallen adversary wouldn’t be coming back from that. He would not make the same mistake Obi-Wan did with Maul. 

_ Obi-Wan. _

Anakin fought a smile from his face. He wondered if he would be proud of Anakin. He just defeated a Sith  _ Lord. _ He could almost taste the man’s excitement, his gaze settling on him and away from Dooku. 

_ This is wrong, _ something in him cautioned. It sounded like a child, lost, scared, confused.  _ Weak. _ He paid it no mind.  _ Obi-Wan wouldn’t want this. This is wrong, this was a mistake. _

Anakin grit his teeth.  _ I don’t make mistakes, _ he growled back internally. 

“Good, Anakin, _ good.” _

Anakin turned to face the Chancellor, quickly freeing him of his arm restraints. It almost looked like a throne without them. 

“I shouldn’t have done that,” Anakin said, half-aware. 

“It was only natural, my dear boy. He took your arm, you took your revenge.”

“He was a war criminal,” Anakin frowned, trying desperately to remember something. “He should have stood trial.”

“Consider his attack on me his  _ trial, _ if you must. You were only doing what was right, protecting your Chancellor, protecting your friend.”

“We’re not friends, Chancellor…” Anakin trailed off, doubting the sentence even as he spoke it. Were they not friends? After all the Chancellor had done for him… they had been rather close since he was first brought to the Temple, hadn’t they?

“Are we not, my dear boy? After all the time we spent together over the years,” Palpatine prompted, gaze locked on Anakin’s eyes. 

“All the time…” Anakin remembered now. They used to spend afternoons chatting, Palpatine acting as a mentor, helping him understand things like… things that were important. That sounded right, didn’t it? 

Of course, it made sense now. He would meet with the Chancellor at the café he liked, they would go there frequently. They both ordered the same drink, the blue milk latte. They’d have small pictures drawn in the foam. Small leafs, sometimes hearts. He could almost smell the caf in the air. He had felt so anxious when he returned from Geonosis with the prosthetic. The Chancellor had made him feel less out of place, showing him a prosthetic of his own. Stories that the Chancellor would tell him of his own youth, escaping a conflicted world, supporting his parents from afar. It made sense now.

“Yes, forgive me. I forgot,” Anakin smiled. The Chancellor returned the smile, the closed-mouth grin of a regal animal. 

“You did always have a knack for forgetting things,” Palpatine mused. Anakin ducked his head sheepishly. 

“Now, let us leave this ghastly place.” 

“Yes, just one moment, please, Your Excellency.” Anakin jogged over to Obi-Wan and hoisted the man over his shoulders. He felt a small breath of relief somewhere, but mostly he just felt confused.

“He will slow us down, Anakin, we must hurry.”

“I’m not leaving him.” Anakin insisted, pushing through the confusion. 

Obi-Wan finally stirred when they were hanging from the elevator shaft. The man had the common sense to grab on tighter, and Anakin thought he even felt a light brush of lips on his shoulderblade. He smiled despite himself, making sure he was secure before attempting to contact Artoo again. The smile slid off his face when he felt the tugging at his leg from the Chancellor. They had come to rescue him, and it had gone terribly sideways. Something was off, but Anakin couldn’t put a finger on it.

“Anakin!” Padmé stage-whispered, standing behind a column. Anakin excused himself from the conversation and hurried over to her.

“Padmé, it’s good to see you.”

“I have wonderful news! I was having a checkup with the medical droid, and, Anakin, I’m due in a month.”

Anakin blinked. “A month already?”

“Yeah,” Padmé smiled weakly, looking to the ground, sadness overtaking her face. “A month already.”

“It’s wonderful to hear, Padmé.” he said quietly, feeling her swell of emotions through the force around her. Sadness, grief, but hope pushing through the both of them. 

“I miss her,” she admitted, “but I’ll be able to raise the child. I just…” she hugged Anakin, who wrapped his arms around her shoulders, patting her awkwardly. 

“I wish I could help, but that-”

“-wouldn’t be a good idea, I know,” Padmé finished, withdrawing from the embrace. “How’s Obi-Wan?”

“He’s fine, a little bruised, but nothing bacta won’t fix. How’s the senate?”

“Busy as ever,” Padmé huffed, rolling her eyes. “I don’t plan on taking a maternity leave, however. So, it’ll stay busy.”

“You plan on working, with a newborn.” Anakin deadpanned, waiting to see if she was joking.

“I need to be my own united front. Bail offered to help me, and I have Sabé. I’ll be fine.”

Anakin nodded. 

“It was nice catching up,” he said, “but if you’ll excuse me…” he gestured towards the group that had meandered to the end of the hall.

“Go, don’t wait on me.” Padmé smiled, shoving him lightly. She waves as he walked off. 

The familiar sinking feeling returned. Her heart felt like it stopped when the droid told her she had a month. That’s one month of assurance that she wouldn’t be killed by Sidious. She wasn’t a fool. She knew she would be dead soon after she gave birth. She just needed to make sure that someone would be there for the child, to keep it safe from Palpatine. The likelihood of the baby being force-sensitive was incredibly high. She had read the charts. She may not completely understand midi-chlorians, but she knew that Anakin was off the charts. Maybe this was a mistake. 

But she had been desperate. She knew she was getting to the end of her rope when she propositioned Anakin. Satine had been unexpected, but she kept Padmé from doing anything reckless. Not that she told Satine  _ anything _ about the situation besides wanting a child. If she played her cards right, she would come out on top. As ‘on top’ as she could be when she had an expiry date on her life set for next month. She needed to be careful.

Obi-Wan paced the room. Anakin’s execution of Dooku loomed over him like a blade ready to drop. What was more troubling was that the Chancellor had told Anakin he was acting on an official order. Anakin seemed nervous. He watched Obi-Wan, biting his lip, as he waited for the man to speak.

“Anakin-” he stopped himself, turning to face the man, “Are you okay?”

“I think so,” Anakin said, looking up at Obi-Wan, feeling small. He didn’t seem to be mad, but he wasn’t happy either. “Should I not be?”

“Anakin you just had to execute one of the leading figures in the Seperatist movement, I wouldn’t expect you to be alright.” Obi-Wan kneeled before him, taking his hands in his.

“I felt like I had to,” Anakin said slowly, sounding the words out.

“What do you mean?” Obi-Wan implored, searching his face. 

“Obi-Wan it’s…” he breathed in sharply. Was he really about to do this? He had shown Obi-Wan the ugly parts of himself before, but this was something he had tried to hide even from himself. “I don’t,” he tried, “I didn’t trust him.  _ Don’t _ trust him. But in that moment,” he swallowed, “I felt like I did. Like I had to.”

Obi-Wan frowned lightly, resting a hand along Anakin’s jaw.

“Can you tell me?” he murmured, stroking Anakin’s cheekbone.

“I’d rather… I’d rather show you.” Anakin whispered, eyes fluttering shut as a tear escaped the squeezed eyelids.

“Breathe, I’m right here,” Obi-Wan whispered back, resting their foreheads together. Anakin’s mental shields felt more ragged as of late, like they were hastily constructed out of gathered sticks, all sharpened to a point, and all pointing outwards. Like a last-ditch resort for his own peace of mind.

Obi-Wan waited patiently as the barriers faded, and Anakin let him in. 

He was back in the memory Anakin had glossed over so many times, but this time, it was laid bare. He saw the Chancellor, the proximity to Anakin, the wandering hands and barbed words. He reminded Obi-Wan in that instant of a carnivorous plant, sickly sweet smell luring in his prey, before drowning them in an acid that caused excruciating pain for the rest of their brief and unknowing existence. Anakin was shaking when Obi-Wan pulled back, shaking harder when Obi-Wan gathered the man into his arms. 

His chest panged with guilt and remorse. Obi-Wan couldn’t help but feel that it was his fault for not having put the pieces together sooner. His fault for agreeing to the mission and bringing Anakin closer to the man who had caused him so much pain and discomfort for so long. His fault for not knowing. His fault for having to recite a message from the Council that would undoubtedly cause him more grief. But holding the information back would cause so much more pain.

“He’s asked to have you put on the Council,” Obi-Wan whispered into Anakin’s hair. Anakin went still.

“No,” Anakin protested weakly. “No, no, they can’t--they can’t let that happen. He doesn’t get to weigh in on Jedi matters, please-” he broke off in a sob, pressing his face into Obi-Wan’s chest as if it would spare him.

“I’m sorry, love,” Obi-Wan sighed, pulling the man to him tighter. “We tried, we really did, but we couldn’t find a way around it without being labeled treasonous. He had made an announcement to his circle before we had a chance to discuss it.”

_ I can get you what you want. _

_ Ask it, and it’s yours.  _

Anakin shuddered. The words that had haunted his nightmares since he was a Padawan came back to him now. He hated having someone pulling strings to get him places. He could have gotten there eventually on  _ his own merit. _ Did the Chancellor doubt him? Did he think Anakin would lay down and let him control his life from a distance? 

Did he  _ know _ that Anakin couldn’t do anything to protest?

_ You should be grateful. He’s getting you to the top as quickly as possible. You’d usurp Windu’s record as the youngest member of the Jedi Council. _

_ You would have power, off the battlefield.  _

_ You would be in control. _

He would have control. He could protect himself. He could make sure nobody could push him past his limits, make sure nobody could use him like a tool. His friendship with the Chancellor was seeming to pay off, past transgressions aside. He had been wise to go back.

_ Had he? _

His head hurt. It was like he was tearing himself apart, two halves of his mind wrestling with one another for the spotlight. He wanted to be on the Council. He wanted to be the youngest in the room, knowing that he was their equal despite his age. He could sit across from Obi-Wan, have time to be an equal to  _ him. _ Then, maybe, he could discuss the possibility of a Bond. Like Plo and Kit. They wouldn’t need to wait as long to finally belong to one another. 

Maybe this was a good thing. 

Anakin needed to make sure that Obi-Wan would be safe, that he knew what was going on himself, first hand. He could make sure that nothing like what had happened to Ahsoka could happen again. Nobody else would get hurt. 

Maybe this was a gift. 

“I’ve… we’ve made amends. The Chancellor and I.”

Obi-Wan stopped where his hand had been drawing circles on Anakin’s shoulder. 

“You didn’t tell me this,” he said carefully. 

“Oh,” Anakin frowned. Hadn’t he said something close enough to that? “Maybe it just wasn’t important at the time.”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan sighed, pulling away slightly. “You don’t have to tell me  _ everything, _ I just… don’t want to be left in the dark. That seemed like a large part of the last few years, and I-- we may have only really been together for a year or so now, but I’d like to think we’re better than this.”

“Sorry,” Anakin winced at the sound of his own voice, “I don’t know why I didn’t tell you sooner.”

Obi-Wan kissed him lightly before moving off of the couch. Anakin didn’t release his hands, leaving the man stranded half a step from where he was. 

“What are you doing?” he said tiredly, a trace of amusement he tried to banish still lighting his face.

“Kiss me again?” Anakin asked sheepishly, looking up through thick eyelashes. 

“Don’t give me that face, you know it’s cheating.” Obi-Wan reprimanded lightly. 

“Please?” Anakin added, chewing the inside of his lip. 

“You’re a menace,” Obi-Wan smiled, sinking down so they were eye level.

“It is effective,” Anakin grinned, bumping their noses together.

“You’re not getting out of this conversation, you know.”

“We can talk later, please?” Anakin whined, once again having to chase after Obi-Wan’s lips.

“Fine. But I mean it.” Obi-Wan slotted their lips together, laughing softly as Anakin’s hands tugged instantly at his robes. 

Obi-Wan woke up first, as usual. Anakin was warm where he was pressed against his side, nestled under his arm. 

There was clearly something going on with the man. It bothered Obi-Wan that he didn’t know what it was, even more so that Anakin seemed to want to avoid talking about it at all costs. Maybe he would be in a better mood later on. His heart sunk as Anakin nuzzled further into his neck, the physical closeness not as it used to be. Anakin seemed distracted, had been for weeks. He kept telling himself that it was going to be alright, that they would  _ talk _ about it rather than rely on sex as a distraction from the present until they were both too worn out to talk. It was getting exhausting. 

He just wanted his beloved Anakin back. The emotions he felt for the man went unsaid. But he wanted Anakin back before he said them. He wanted the easiness they shared, the banter, the understanding. 

He loved him dearly, and he missed him even more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> eheheh heyyyyyyyyyyy  
> it's been a while :)  
> comments are Big Motivators(TM)  
> sending my love!  
> xo spiders xo


	24. Begging you to hear me

Exegol was always stormy. Sheev knew this before he had first arrived with his late Master all those decades ago. The Muun had shown him all the ropes of the cloning operation, and shown him everything he needed to know about those in the shadows they called the Sith Eternal. The experiment that yielded the Grand Army of the Republic served as the foundation for the Vader Project. The cloning of humans with a development enhancement was child’s play compared to replicating the bodies of a force-sensitive, but after a decade of work, they succeeded. The last two years they had taken test-runs with the various batches, making adjustments and refinements. His Instigators had done well, he had all the data his cloners needed, and the capturing of the consciousness before Embedding, and after the process had finished, performed without a hitch. 

The Senator’s complication to his plan was irritating, but could be easily remedied. 

* * *

They had gotten their assignments. It felt wrong, and it made Anakin want to curl up in a hole in the ground and _not_ _exist,_ but it also felt empowering. Like the first few shaky steps out of the nest, something that hurt but needed to be done. Ripping off a plaster. Learning how to inhale underwater. 

He didn’t like the idea of having to be away from Obi-Wan. He might even hate it. But he did know that he intensely disliked it. He didn’t want to leave Obi-Wan alone to deal with Grievous. 

He wanted to sneak onto the ship, stow away and just  _ be there _ for his partner. But everything felt wrong, like iron in his mouth. No matter what he did, his throat felt coated and slicked down with a metallic taste, but he wasn’t bleeding. Like his insides were too clean, and he needed to get out and fight to dirty them up again, the taste of bile in his throat would be pleasant for a change. Maybe breathing in the dust of some hot planet would help. He needed to be outside, in the open. The city was starting to feel like a maze he couldn’t make sense of. 

He slept fitfully. 

As he was wandering the halls of the Temple, he bumped into Mace. The man was sitting across from a Youngling, explaining something with the aid of hand motions. Anakin lurked behind a column, taking the moment to relax in the familiarity of the scene.

He couldn’t count the times that Mace had found him sitting by a window as a child, and stopped just to have a chat. The half-smile he made when sharing an inside joke or when hearing something amusing, even taking pride in something Anakin had learned recently, was the greatest form of validation he could remember. 

There was a time shortly after meeting Ahsoka that Anakin had run to Mace, face reddened with tears because he was horrified that he  _ couldn’t be good enough for someone so bright _ . Mace had sat him down and waited patiently while Anakin spoke his mind, then respectfully told him to  _ shut your bitchass up, _ because he was worthy of a Padawan and he would be fine. 

And that just turned out perfectly. 

He couldn’t protect Ahsoka from the investigation that wrongfully labeled her a traitor and murderer. He couldn’t stop her leaving the Order when the Council finally got the whole story. He couldn’t help her lightyears away on Mandalore because he was needed here. He had failed her. 

But… he had also done the best he could. She was strong, talented beyond his greatest imaginations for her, and she was kind. Funny as hell, but he couldn’t take sole responsibility for that. She had managed to survive, inspire others to survive, and she had found her way back to him time and time again. 

Mace was right. Had been right. Anakin did all he could for Ahsoka, and she knew that if she had ever,  _ ever _ needed him, he would be there in a heartbeat. 

Mace looked up from where he was after the Youngling left, catching sight of Anakin by a tall window. He let his eyes assess the young man, noting the somewhat stiffened posture and the aloof look on his face. He knew that when he was separated from Kenobi he got like this, but something about this was a bit different.

“Skywalker, how’s the skyline?” he greeted, folding his arms inside of his sleeves. Anakin blinked, smiling when he noticed who was talking.

“Mace! Uh, it’s nice. Goldish. Like usual.” he rambled, pushing his hair out of his face -- an increasingly difficult task given the length of his hair being  _ just _ long enough to fall into his eyes, yet not long enough to sweep behind his ears or tie up. 

“We need to get you to look into some sort of restraint for your hair. Or, you could be wise and lose it all. Easier to not have it as a liability this way,” Mace grinned, “also sexier.” Anakin cringed.

“Force, please don’t start. Between you and Kit I don’t get a break from this--”

“Kit also does your hair, so I don’t see that there’s much to complain about on that front.”

“True,” Anakin laughed, ducking his head. 

“I could really go for a latte right about now. Feeling generous?” Mace said loftily, looking innocent. 

“Sure, sure, but  _ I’m _ driving.”

A few things Mace had said really stuck to Anakin, he mused as he walked back to his room. He had commented on the state of repair of the café they frequented, noting that it “was coming along nicely” since some sort of explosion had happened a few years ago. Anakin hid his shock behind a hum of agreement, but steered clear of the subject and changed the topic. 

He couldn’t remember an explosion at the café. He had been going there for years with Palpatine and Mace on different occasions, and he had no recollection of even  _ reading _ about an explosion. He made a mental note to search the Holonet for more information on that later. 

His blood had felt colder when Mace brought up the hidden Sith Lord the Order had been searching for. He had done so in such a casual manner, and it struck Anakin as odd, even uncomfortable. He changed the topic there, too. 

Anakin felt a swell of something frustrated rearing its ugly head when he noted yet again that there was obviously  _ something _ going on with his mind. That was one of the few safe places he had left, he didn’t want anything to be worse with it. 

He had almost tripped into his door when he realised that his memories were wrong. 

* * *

“Sir? Something’s happening.”

Sheev rounded the corner, standing behind the Kaminoan as they surveyed the body on the table. It was twitching violently, head jerking repeatedly, eyes moving behind shut lids. 

“Restrain him,” Sheev ordered, watching carefully as the body stilled briefly as the restraining system was engaged and the body secured to the table. “What is the meaning of this? I was under the impression that we had worked past any and  _ all difficulties!” _ he lashed out with the force, slamming the unfortunate Kaminoan into the equipment table behind them. 

“Sir, I apologise--the mental stability of the clone-”

“- _ Product.” _

“- _ Product _ , of the Product is beginning to fracture, which is causing an instability with the linking of consiouses, undermining the Embedding process and--”

“ _ Fix. It.” _ Sheev ground out, teeth creaking as his jaw clenched. 

“Right away, sir… though, I will need to sync them for a moment while I do so.”

“Just get it done.”

He peered closer at the body while the Kaminoan fiddled with the dials. 

_ “-- isn’t right, something isn’t adding up. How could I have missed something this big? Something is wrong, very wrong--” _

“Can he hear me?” Sheev said quietly, not taking his eyes off of the body.

“Yes sir, he can,” the Kaminoan whispered back.

_ “--how could I have been so stupid? This is--” _

“Anakin,” Sheev called, his voice slippery and comforting. The body stilled.

_ “Chancellor?” _

“Anakin, hear me:”

_ “Hear you-- yes, sir, I’m listening, sorry about--” _

“Shut it you  _ stupid boy,” _ he spat, before regaining control of himself after the body whimpered.

“Anakin, it is time.  _ Bring them to me.” _ he said, pulling the force against him as he projected the words into the man’s skull. 

_ “Sir…” _

“Do it.”

The body gave one final jolt, and went still. 

The force around Sheev seemed to sing with the promise of a storm. 

“You have done well, doctor,” he stood, calling his ‘sabre to his hand before slipping it up his sleeve to clip on a band he had sewn into his robes. 

“Thank you sir,” the Kaminoan’s large black eyes blinked owlishly, peering around them.

“Do take care when you reach where you are going.”

“Sir?” the Kaminoan started, beginning to sound worried.

The fear that creeped into the air was intoxicating. It filled Sheev’s nose and his brain ate the stimulus hungrily. With a flick of his hand, the Kaminoan’s head snapped backwards, the doctor falling to the ground. A shame, really. He had been curious to find out how flexible those necks of theirs were. Apparently, not very flexible indeed. 

It was time.

* * *

Mace took the best of the Masters left at the Temple with him to arrest the Chancellor. He was deeply concerned at how long Sidious had been sitting under their noses, and how well he had hidden himself as he rose to power so publicly. 

Anakin’s words had been careful, very aware of the gravity of the situation. He had told his dear friend to wait at the Temple while the arrest was being made. He needed to know that the Younglings would be safe and looked after while they were away. Not even the force knew, he mused, how far Sidious had gone in his plans. 

The sheer ferocity with which the Sith fought reminded him of a coiled serpent, he had been waiting, starving for violence, for so long that he was done trying to play with his food. He was ruthless. Mace felt in the force when his friends, his siblings in arms, were cut down. He felt the anguish, the horror they felt in their dying moments. He was physically drained by the effect of their slaughters. The force seemed to be screaming. 

In the midst of it all was Sidious. He fueled off of the pain, the agony, the fear. 

Mace had lost the use of his physical eyes thanks to a stray bolt of the force lightning, and his only landmarks in his sea of pain and void were the force signatures of those near him. At some point, another Sith, notably less powerful had entered the room. This Sith was dainty in comparison to the wrath of Sidious, feeding off of pain and remorse and instability. 

The last thing Mace Windu felt was the cauterising blow of a lightsabre and the shattering of glass against his back before his world gave way to wind and city air, then to darkness. 

* * *

“What have I done? What have I  _ done?” _ Anakin sank to his knees. But his body wasn’t cooperating. It was like he was seeing through his own eyes, but he was trapped, trapped far within the recesses of his broken mind, too far to control anything. 

He saw himself kneel, pledging allegiance to the Sith Lord he had worked alongside the Order to find for so many years. He saw the Sith pronouncing him a wretched name he wanted no part of. 

Anakin heard through Vader’s ears Sidious give the order. He felt through the force the impact: a sea of black sand, colder than anything, sweep across the galaxy, billions of switches being flipped on. Dormant rising at the command. He screamed until his throat felt like it would shatter, felt Vader slam against him in the force, blocking him out. 

This was utter agony. This was being ripped to shreds by blunt claws, over and over until there was nothing left but meaty paste and gouged bones. This was searing pain on both temples, pushing and pushing but never close enough to kill. 

“Obi-Wan, Obi-Wan  _ please _ ,” Anakin sobbed, pulling at his hair and curling up into himself. “Help me.  _ Help me.” _

He came to when Vader marched up the steps to the Temple. He heard the clamor of armour behind him, but he couldn’t see what Vader couldn’t see. 

_ No… no, you stay  _ away _ from there! _

Vader batted him aside.

_ You bastard stay AWAY from there! _

Anakin found himself pinned, throat hoarse again. 

He sobbed, screaming so hard his head throbbed and his lungs burned. 

_ Archives: Jedi Temple: Council Room. Selected Log Entries: 2320-2333. _

_ [2358] Knight Skywalker has entered the room.  _

_ [2358] Younglings move from behind seats. Padawan Ootar Gororu embraces Knight Skywalker.  _

Anakin tried to throw himself in front of Vader, to no avail. 

“Ootar, Ootar get out of there _it’s not safe get out of here!_ _Ootar it’s a trick RUN-”_

_ [2358] Padawan Ootar Gororu has ceased life functions. _

_ [2358] Youngling Jorie Dous has ceased life functions. _

_ [2358] Youngling Ter Gura has ceased life functions. _

_ [2358] Youngling Rjin Retova has ceased life functions. _

_ [2358] Youngling Ter Doorn has ceased life functions. _

_ [2359] Youngling Lo Kao has ceased life functions. _

Anakin sobbed, stomach rebelling as he attempted to steady it. Nothing came up. 

_ [0000] Youngling Derg Hundra has ceased life functions. _

_ [0001] Youngling Amea Crse has ceased life functions. _

_ [0002] Youngling Ber Fau has ceased life functions. _

_ [0002] Knight Skywalker has exited the Council Room. _

_ End of Selected Log Entries. _

* * *

He was a prisoner in a body he had no control of. 

Anakin watched, numb to the horrors he saw Vader committing with his face. It was cold in here. 

He saw himself--Vader. He saw Vader going to a fiery planet. He saw him tell Artoo to stay with the ship. 

He saw Vader commit another massacre, this time, the leaders of the Separatist Systems. Some people he recognised, others he knew by name only. He didn’t want to count them as he saw their bodies hit the durasteel floor. 

A single condemned tear fell from his eye as the unforgettable and distinct outline of the Nubian Star Cruiser landed on the landing pad. 

Anakin saw Vader hug Padmé. He saw Vader almost strangle her to death when she reeled away in horror, somehow knowing that he wasn’t Anakin. 

His heart stung, as much as it could after all of the abuse it had taken in the past few hours, when he saw his beloved standing on the landing pad. 

_ Hear me, please hear me, Obi-Wan it’s not me there, darling please-- _

He did what he could to slow Vader down during his clash with Obi-Wan. But he was nowhere near strong enough to do more than that. 

He watched through drowning eyes as Obi-Wan’s heartbreak seeped into the force around them. The clash of lightsabres, cerulean on azure, made him dizzy.

He tried to remember the other morning. He had woken up in Obi-Wan’s arms, feeling safe. A stability he felt only in those quiet moments. The sun wasn’t even up yet but the dim light made the sight before him no less breathtaking. He felt ghostly fingers run through his hair as he relived the scene. His body had abandoned all other feelings, the heat of the lava around Vader fading, the scent of volcanic rock and the metallic scent of the lightsabres clinging to the air. 

Anakin decided that he no longer cared what happened to his body. Vader could have it as his coffin. Anakin almost used himself up entirely holding the Sith back. He could only make out muffled words.

_ “--It’s over, Anakin--” _

Please, please let it be over. 

_ “You underestimate my power.” _

Jump. Jump you  _ worthless piece of bantha shit JUMP. _

Vader jumped, a spike of fear running through his mind right as he left the platform. This was suicide. 

Anakin closed his eyes, doing what he could to not feel the searing pain through his three remaining limbs, before Vader hit the ground. 

_ “You were my everything, Anakin. I loved you.” _

I love you. I love you.  _ I love you I love you I-- _

_ “I HATE YOU.” _

Vader caught fire, and Anakin knew nothing else. 

* * *

Obi-Wan staggered back to the landing pad. He couldn’t find the will to feel surprised that he was standing. He brought Padmé back onto the ship, brought Artoo. 

He met with Senator Organa and Master Yoda on a larger ship, saw Padmé rushed into an emergency birthing room. 

She cried out as the stimulant hit her, clutching the sides of the delivery table while a medical droid attended to her. 

_ Sidious went to Mustafar. He found the burnt and mutilated body of his finest invention right where he knew it would be. There was still hope to save what was left. He motioned to the troopers, and they picked up the almost-corpse, who groaned with pain. _

Obi-Wan breathed in sharply when the baby was removed. Yet, Padmé still seemed to be in agony.

_ “She is carrying twins,” _ the medical droid had told them. 

Padmé gingerly held the baby’s hand as it was presented to her, murmuring a name before the baby was placed into a small bed of sorts.

_ Vader, what was left of him, was set on a table. The droids got to work on creating new appendages, removing the singed clothing that got melted into his skin. The man yelled in pain, but he did so to deaf ears. _

The other baby was delivered seven minutes after the first. Padmé also held this one briefly before it was set in another prepared box next to its sibling. Obi-Wan felt only heartache when he looked at them. 

It was bad enough that Padmé had to raise them alone, without her Duchess by her side. It was worse knowing that Anakin wouldn’t even be able to see them. 

Oh,  _ Anakin. _

_ “Life signs failing rapidly, sir.” the droid closest to Sidious said, voice even and unwavering. A benefit to their lack of fear of the Sith. _

_ Sidious moved closer to Vader, putting his hand on the shoulders of the wrecked man. _

“Her life signs are fading quickly, for reasons we cannot explain.” the medical droid said, hands held politely together in front of it. 

“She’s dying?” Organa backed up a step, glancing over the droid’s shoulder to the woman on the table, looking paler by the second. 

“Can we see her?” Obi-Wan heard himself saying.

_ “Life signs beginning to return to normal, sir.” _

“It’s not him,” Padmé said weakly, “what I’ve done is unforgivable but please… it’s not--it’s-” she breathed shakily, hands bunching in Obi-Wan’s sleeve, squeezing Organa’s hand on the other side of the table. 

“I’m not--I can’t be there,” she gasped, “for them. I need--need…” 

_ “Life signs stable.” _

_ The mask was lowered onto Vader’s face, the red displays replacing vision.  _

“She is gone,” the medical droid said gently, “time of death 1220.” the voice returned to a professional detachment. 

The men sat down to devise a plan.

_ The table was lifted, carrying the man, now mostly machine, to his feet. The room erupted into chaos, the force pulling tightly towards its new child.  _

Her funeral was at Theed Palace. Organa suggested they conceal her giving birth. She was buried as a pregnant woman, the child lost. 

Organa took Leia back with him to Alderaan. He and Breha would take good care of her.

_ “Rise, Darth Vader.” Sidious quieted the chaos in the room, watching hungrily as Vader tore the restraints from the table, freeing himself. _

Obi-Wan returned to the planet he knew would be safest for Luke. 

He was conflicted. 

He found a family willing to adopt, as they were not able to have children of their own. They would raise Luke as their nephew, and love him as their son. 

He also didn’t want to lose the last bit of Anakin he had left. 

But he couldn’t bear to look at the baby. It made the hole in his chest impossibly heavier. 

“What’s your name, sir?” Beru said, cradling the baby in her arms, looking up to Obi-Wan.

_ What is your name indeed. _

His mind traveled back within a single instant. He couldn’t be Obi-Wan, not any more. He needed to be free, from pain, from everything he had lived.

“Ben. Ben Kenobi. This is Luke,” he let the baby grasp his forefinger lightly, “Luke Skywalker.”

_ I will look out for you, dear one. But not from beside you.  _

He could have sworn he saw Anakin in the wind as it carried the Tatooine sand away from him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all for sticking with this through the breaks and through the chapters.   
> for those of you who were here since the beginning, my love goes out to you, as does my gratitude.  
> for those of you who are new, thank you for finding this :)  
> for those of you who stalked me to other fandoms to yell at me to get back to this, here you are :) (this is at you, anon Jake.)  
> for those of you who needed something comforting and wholesome, i'm half sorry.  
> for those of you who gave this, me, a chance, my love to you.   
> stay safe kiddos, epilogue will be up when it'll be up.  
> xo spiders xo


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